A Christmas Gift
by Dizzy3
Summary: Hermione sets out to give Draco a gift that will teach him a lesson about the way he treats people. They both end up with more Christmas Spirit then they bargained for.
1. Snowy Encounters and Hot Cocoa Revelatio...

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The Christmas Gift  
Chapter One: Snowy Encounters and Hot Cocoa Revelations  
Written by: Dizzy  
Author's Notes: Revamping this fic, after all initial edits are completed will begin Part 10 after over a years worth of waiting for an update of this fic. I apologize to all of the reviewers who have waited patiently for the update. Here they are. I am seeking a beta to help me with the completion of the revamps of my other fics, any interested parties should email with BETA somewhere in the subject. I get a lot of email, so make it clear to avoid deletion.

Basically I just went through and corrected any issues with plot continuity, its and it's, your and you're, corrected dialogue placement etc. If anyone would like to beta THIS after I've posted feel free. Run-on's are not my forte, and I have a phobia of the semi-colon apparently.

The snow had fallen lightly all day and night, till the ground was covered in its whiteness, shiny and sparkling in dim sun. It was like being stuck inside a diamond, all glittering prettiness and bright sheen, covering the trees and the walkways. Hermione Granger hugged her books closer, her knit cap snug over her curls, her scarf wrapped securely around her neck. For the first time since the start of exams she found herself smiling. It was so peaceful outside, as if everything was asleep, leaving a quietness that was as unnerving as it was calming. Her cheeks were flush with the cold, biting at her cheeks and whipping her curly hair about her face, soft tendrils brushing by her nose.

The school itself was ready for Christmas, trees in every corridor, decorated with bright shiny ornaments, glowing with their own light while the little tiny trumpets, drums and flutes that hung from their boughs played an endless array of carols. It was actually starting to get annoying, all the Christmas cheer. Little bits of Wandering Mistletoe had been tripping up everyone lately, sparking romance in the oddest places which was why she found herself taking the long way to the Great Hall. She didn't want to be caught under the bright red leaves and berries, forced to pucker up with some random person she didn't know. And frankly she was getting a bit sick of the Santa portraits ho ho hoing all the way to Arithmancy and asking her what she wanted for Christmas all the bloody time. She was Christmas spirited out. Exams were finally over, but they ended at the expense of hours and hours toiling away in the dim library light, hunched over books and straining her eyes. She couldn't wait to get into the Great Hall, to finally sit down at a peaceful dinner with Ron and Harry and enjoy her vacation. She had worked far to hard for far to long. She hadn't seen Ron and Harry in days, and she was actually beginning to miss those bright green eyes of Harry's, that messy hair, and Ron's lanky fire headed figure.

So absorbed was she in her musings, thoughts of exams and various other stresses, that she didn't see the pale-haired boy emerge from the copse of trees that lined the grounds just at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. His stride was quick and sure, his cloak billowing behind him in the wind, his unusually pale cheeks tinted red from the cold. He carried his Nimbus in his hands and pride on his face. Long ago he had left behind the puffy cheeked, lanky figure of his boyhood, and what was left was a sight to be seen. Long white blonde hair curled just above his collar, keen blue-grey eyes watched her with purpose, and what had once been lanky and skinny was now muscular and full-shouldered. She didn't see as he fell into step just behind her, his gaze focused on her and her alone. She didn't catch the scowl of contempt on his face, the angry pursing of his almost blue lips, or the raising of perfectly winged eyebrows.

"Avoiding the mistletoe Granger?" Hermione cast a head over her shoulder to glare at him for a brief moment before continuing her walk to the Great Hall. "Afraid to get vomit on your robes?" Draco gave a sympathetic nod, matching stride with her. "Personally if I was you I wouldn't want to watch the disgust on those poor boys faces either. It really is better if you walk around." Hermione stopped.

"Go away." Draco crossed his arms.

"Now why, would I want to do something like that? You're so entertaining." He took in her appearance. "I mean the beggar costume alone is worth the freezing temperatures."

"What's your excuse for being out here then Malfoy?" Hermione snorted. "Afraid to have to relive kissing some of your old conquests?" She rolled her eyes. "Then again Pansy Parkinson is enough to make anyone take the long way."

"Finally we agree on something, Mudblood. Fancy that." He resumed walking, leaving her standing there, her anger growing with every stride he made.

"You know what Malfoy?" Hermione started. Draco stopped in the snow, but didn't give her the satisfaction of turning around to face her. He merely stopped.

"What?" 

"One day you're going to regret everything you do," her words were full of purpose. "One day you're going to realize what a big pit of misery you've dug yourself by being this way." Draco turned his head, smirking at her.

"Just consider it your grave Mudblood." His tone was pleasant and a little scary. And with that he continued to stroll, lazily as if he had not a care in the world to the Great Hall.

Ron handed her a mug of hot chocolate, his smile broad and his eyes glittering with the promise of excitement. He had passed his exams, he was sure of that, and Christmas was only days away, the joy of presents in the air. Christmas had always been his favorite holiday, turning him into the little 12 year old boy she remembered. At 17 he was tall and lanky, quite handsome if you were into that sort, with fiery red hair and freckles to match, a pale complexion that would never tan only burn and bright sparkling eyes that seemed to brim with excitement over the silliest things. Like Quidditch, or Wizards Chess, or Christmas for that matter. He had taken to wearing the traditional colors of red and green this past week, a little Santa pinned to the sweater bearing his famous R. Harry too had been caught up in the spirit, but his came from a different place entirely. His new-found respect for the holiday had stemmed not from good cheer and promise of presents, but the errant moving mistletoe which had just a week ago earned him a kiss and a new romance from his beloved Ginny quite by accident. Ever since then he had been making a fuss about the spirit of Christmas and how wonderful it all was. Frankly they were both making her sick. Nonetheless she smiled her thank you to Ron, taking the hot cocoa in her hand and curling up in her armchair. 

"You've never stayed for Christmas before have you?" Ron said. Hermione shook her head. Not while conscious anyway. There had been that time in her 2nd year, but being petrified kind of put a damper on the Holiday.

"It's great. There's a big feast and presents and snowball fights..." Ron went on and on. Nothing he mentioned seemed all that exciting to her. Hogwarts seemed to have a feast at a drop of a hat, she could get presents at home with her parents, and not a day went by when there wasn't some snowball fight or wrestling match. But she was stuck here, her parents heading off to her Grandmother's for the holidays and saying it would probably be easier if she just stayed there to celebrate, a new experience they called it. Frankly it wasn't all that great. But she would be with Ron and Harry, so things weren't all bad. The only downside was that the only people who stayed for the holidays were bumbling first-years and as of the past two years Draco Malfoy. No one could explain his sudden change of plans; he had simply stopped leaving for vacations, offering no explanation as to why. He still got loads of presents according to Ron and Harry, displaying them for all to see at the Christmas feast, and she was sure that was all he cared about anyway.

"Cheer up," Ron punched her shoulder playfully. "It's not the end of the world. Everyone has to celebrate Christmas without their mums once in awhile." Hermione nodded. He had a point, she was seventeen now, time to find a new source of Christmas joy. But still, she was hurt they hadn't wanted her to come home. She saw too little of them as it was. "And we're here," Ron went on, puffing out his chest. Except there was no we right then. Harry had just left her side, off somewhere to grope Ginny. Hermione smiled at the thought, not that Ginny minded the groping of course, as long as Ron didn't find out she was happy. He would kill both of them if he did. So naturally Harry had been missing a lot lately, and Ginny too, sneaking off to God knows where to do...whatever it was they did. Personally she didn't want to think of it. They were like siblings to her, and frankly it was more then a little weird to see them together. Not that Ron noticed of course, he was so oblivious to everything, stuck in his own world of Quidditch and chess that he never noticed even the most obvious events.

"What do you want for Christmas?" Ron asked, he plopped himself into a chair across from her, large unstockinged feet dangling dangerously close to the fire. Hermione shrugged.

"For Draco Malfoy to get hit by a bus." She said finally. Ron nodded.

"God bless us, every one," he replied. "What happened?" Hermione shrugged.

"He was out doing God knows what and he decided to pick a verbal fight," Hermione shrugged. "Typical Malfoy behavior. But I'm sick of him. Someone should teach him a lesson."

Ron was only too happy to agree, he hated Draco with a passion that was only rivaled by his love of Qudditch, and his eyes flashed dangerously every time the name was mentioned. His fists clenched and he looked like he would very much like to hit something.

"It'd be a fitting Christmas gift, teach him a bit of manners," Ron cracked a knuckle in what he assumed was a macho manner. Hermione bit her lip, a thought coming into her head. It was a nasty crazy thought, but one full of promise.

"What a lovely idea Ron," she stood up, handing him her hot cocoa.

"Where are you going?" He sat up. "What idea?"

"I'm going Christmas shopping."

It was almost three hours before she found what she was looking for, a lot of work for one spell she was sure, but it was going to be well worth it to see the look on his face when it was all over. It was more then he deserved. Usually Hermione was against such actions, using magic against a student was expressly forbidden, but the spell itself was simple and not in the least bit dangerous as far as she could see. That was part of the reason it had taken so bloody long to find it, she had found it in the most unlikely of places. Picking up her quill she unrolled the bit of parchment she had brought with her scribbling the spell onto it, relief making her finally relax. And to think she had thought this vacation was going to be a relaxing one. And here at the start of it she was still deep into research. But it would be worth it, so very worth it. Finally she could get the revenge she had wanted since she had entered Hogwarts as a bushy haired, big toothed, 11 year old. Rolling the parchment back up she shoved the quill and parchment into her satchel, returning the books to their proper places on the shelves before she strolled out, the ingredients would be relatively easy to get, nothing to complicated or hard to find, and the potion itself was an easy one. Which was why she had found it buried deep in what would be ordinarily a first year level research book, not that any first years would recognize it for what it was. She exited the library a smile on her face, and a little bit more dance in her step. Draco Malfoy was going to get what he deserved, and that was enough to make any Hogwarts student a little bit more into the Christmas spirit.

Draco scowled into his bowl of hot wheaty mush, picking up a spoonful with his soup and letting it plop back down into the bowl with sickening wet slaps. The table was virtually empty; his usual court of followers had all gone home for Christmas, leaving him alone with nothing but hot mush to eat and chatty annoying first years to worship him. It was embarrassing really, the Great Hall was almost empty as it was but to be sitting pretty much alone, no friends to laugh or joke with was kind of sad, and there across the hall was the Golden Trio, giggling over something Weasel had said, Potter sneaking glances over at the littlest Weasel and the Mudblood almost shooting milk out her nose. They made him sick. If not a little jealous. He pushed away from the table with a scowl, the mush untouched, and flounced out of the Great Hall.

Out of the corner of her eye Hermione watched him go. She knew where he was going. She had seen him herself on her way back from the library. Even in the cold and snow he practiced, pushing himself to the limit, hidden away in a secret place only he knew about. He was driven by the desire to be the best, everyone knew that. Which was why he did it, despite the wind and the freezing temperatures he flew, diving and whirling around in intricate patterns, chasing that silly golden ball that seemed to be so important to every wizarding boy she had ever met. Some more so then others. It was the perfect opportunity. She took a final bite of her oatmeal, a final sip of her milk and stood up.  
"I'll see you guys later in the common room okay?" Questioning stares followed her out, but her friends said nothing, they never did. Hermione was a strange girl prone to odd bits of whimsy and it wasn't exactly like she was going to tell them what she did everyday, it was her private business. They returned to their breakfasts, conversation turning to Quidditch and everything beautiful about it.

The simplicity of it all unnerved her, and the more she did and the more she read made her wonder why. The effect itself was complex, at odds with its easy preparation. The potion took her only 10 minutes, brewing and bubbling; announcing its readiness. Slowly she spooned some of it up, pouring it carefully into the mug, where she mixed it in with the hot cocoa that sat within its depths. Then she dipped into it a small glass vial, putting a cork stopper to hold the contents. It was almost too easy. Shrugging she grabbed the mug, shoving the vial into her bag and headed out to the Quidditch pitch to set her plan in motion.

He was there of course, and if it wasn't for her he would have been there long after. She looked up at him curiously, darting around in the air at speeds she could only imagine. Her own skills with a broom left a lot to be desired, and she vastly preferred the solidness of the ground to the unstable air. He caught sight of her almost immediately, it wasn't hard. She was the only dot of dark in the whole area, taking small calculated steps across the snow, a mug clutched in her hand.

"What are you doing?" she called up to him. Draco angled the broom towards her, stopping just short of hitting her.

"What does it look like?"

"Isn't it a little cold for practice?" She looked around, shivering slightly in the air. Draco shrugged.

"Doesn't bother me," but she could see he was lying. He was shaking just as much as she, his lips tinted that same shade of blue they had been two days ago, his cheeks red and raw from the wind. But there was a glint in his eyes, an almost cheerful tilt to his lips. He put his feet to the ground, swinging off the broom. She eyed him for a moment.

"I think you need this more then I do," she held out the mug, praying he would take it. Which he did, predictably, Draco may be a wanker but he wasn't stupid, and he wasn't one to turn down a hot beverage in the cold. The mug was warm in his hand, delicious steam rising from its contents smelling faintly of cocoa and cream.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked taking a sip. It was slightly spicy, an odd blend of sweet and tang, but still good, warming him to his toes with every small sip.

"I was on my way to the library when I saw you," she rolled her eyes. "Just wanted to observe the insanity for myself." He shrugged.

"It's actually a lot of fun flying in the cold." He took another sip. Hermione watched him with careful eyes, it wouldn't take that much...just a few sips more. For a moment she had her doubts, guilt eating away at the back of her mind, but it was too late now. Whatever had possessed her to do this was not letting her back out now. Besides it would do him some good and perhaps get him to stop being so cruel and spiteful all the time. He took another sip. "Not that you enjoy flying in mild weather." He added as an afterthought. Hermione shrugged.

"It never appealed to me."

"To each his own I suppose." Again guilt nagged at the back of her mind as he took another sip. He was actually being civil. Two whole minutes and not one insult. Then again his cronies weren't around to impress. He took yet another sip. It was then she noticed the changes.

Draco's head felt very odd at that moment. For a moment it felt like his eyes were crossed, his vision going a bit blurry. Hermione took a step towards him as he stumbled, the mug falling from his hands and sinking into the snow, the contents splashing in a long tannish line across it.

"Malfoy," her hand was on his shoulder.

"Perhaps flying today wasn't such a good idea," at least that's what he had meant to say. Instead it came out a garbled mess of slurred words. He sank to his knees. He felt very odd indeed. The world swam in shadow for a moment, blurred and dark, and then he felt himself falling, the ground coming up awful fast.

"Draco!" Hermione reached for him, she hadn't expected that. But the moment he hit the ground he was gone, nothing more then a brief shallow imprint of his body left. It was now or never she supposed. Hands shaking from cold and nervousness she brought out the small vial.

There was no going back till this was over and he learned.

"Don't let this be for nothing," she prayed to whatever higher power would listen. She suspected she would be dealing with a very angry Draco when she got to wherever it was. And perhaps for a very long time depending on how long he took. She uncorked the vial, knocking back its contents quickly and then drew her wand.

"Delorum baltoshoy malianrus contreetay samoy." She whispered and instantly she knew what Draco had been feeling. She felt like her brain was liquid and would at any instant just seep out of her head, her eyes were heavy and her body was weak. It was quite a bit like being drunk. Although she had only experienced that particular sensation once in her whole life at her Aunt Majorie's wedding two years ago, she remembered it vividly. The loss of rational thought, the warm fuzzy feeling and apathy that went with it. She sank to her knees into the snow, just as Draco had done and felt her eyes begin to close, the effort of keeping them open was just too much at that moment. She didn't know if she was going to be sick or pass out. She did the latter, her body vanishing just as Draco's had the moment she hit the ground, nothing more left of them then two overlapping imprints in the snow.

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	2. A World Without Draco

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A Christmas Gift  
Chapter 2: A World Without Draco  
Disclaimer: I own jack.  
Author: Dizzy

The sensation of floating lasted only for an instant, as if all gravity had been suspended, and for one second she felt glorious. Then she felt herself fall, smacking the ground hard knocking the wind out of herself. Her hand clenched to find purchase on what seemed to be a fairly unstable medium. Fingers moved through cold slush, and the burn of the cold on her cheek was enough to make her shoot up, confused. They hadn't moved. Looking around the familiar colored tiers of the Quidditch pitch sent a jolt to her system. It hadn't worked. But she had seen him disappear; she had watched him vanish. Her eyes searched him out, lying there in the snow, just as if he was taking a nap.

"Can't succeed at everything," she murmured. "Malfoy," she reached over to him, stretching a hand out. She couldn't just let him sleep in the snow. "Malfoy." She tried again, rocking him back and forth.

"Shur-up and go back to sleep," he groaned, and then she found herself on the ground again, his arm gripping her waist, his face in her hair. He murmured something she couldn't make out and they sank deeper into the snow. Obviously he wasn't aware that she wasn't one of his conquests and they weren't in his bed. Sighing, she pulled against his arm, but his grip was sure and he wasn't stirring. She could think of only one way to rouse him. She leaned over, her breath in his ear.

"LET ME GO." Draco's eyes popped open startled, his stomach jumping. He realized two things right off, the first was that he was buried in the hair of a female he despised, if her voice was any indication of her identity, and the second was that he was lying in the snow. He jerked upwards, finally releasing his grip on her and fell backwards into the snow on his hands. She sat up, regarding him calmly as he tried to sort out what happened.

Quidditch pitch. Granger with hot cocoa. Freezing temperatures. Passed out. He caught her eye, and the look in them was unmistakable. If you tell anyone I'll kill you it seemed to say. Hermione did nothing, she merely stood up, brushing the white powder from her robes. She was soaked through by now, the heat of thier bodies had melted a substantial amount of the snow and she was exhausted and frustrated. It was rare for Hermione Granger to fail at anything, especially not something she had deemed so simple. She grabbed her scarf, which had detatched itself from her neck and looked at him for a moment before looking around for the mug. What should have been lying only feet away was nowhere to be found and there were no indents in the snow to show that it had melted through. Odd. Shrugging Hermione turned towards the Great Hall. It had been a foolish idea anyway, imagine teaching a prat like Draco Malfoy a lesson about respect.

Draco picked himself up off the ground. Where was his Nimbus? His eyes widened in terror of the thought. Where was it? He dived to the ground, fingers clawing at the snow. It had to be here somewhere, he had no idea how long he'd been out and the snow had been falling continously for two days. He let out a grunt of frustration, his clawing becoming desperate as he searched. Hermione turned around. It seemed he had gone mad.

"What are you doing?"

"My Nimbus, where is it?" he continued to claw at the snow. Hermione looked around, but the sleek broom was nowhere that she could see. He was scrambling about as if he had lost a child or something, desperate and insane. She almost felt sorry for him. If the broom was missing permanently it was her fault it seemed. First the mug and now the broom.

"Where did you have it last?" Draco looked up at her as if she was an idiot.

"You know where I had it last. Right here," he returned to his ministrations, his eyes burning. He needed that broom.

"What did you do with it?" he turned on her, half kneeling in the snow, his gloves were covered in the stuff and obviously soaked through. Hermione was startled, he advanced on her and she backed away.

"I didn't do anything with it," she said and he grabbed her arm.

"What did you do with it," he repeated. He had gone crazy. That was the only explanation, he was absolutely stark raving mad. His eyes were glittering with desperation, his face twisted in rage. He was hurting her, fingers digging into her arm and she could feel them even through the thick robes, digging into her skin.

"I swear I didn't touch it," that was the truth at least. She hadn't touched the broom not with her hands anyway, but guilt nagged at the back of her mind like little pinpricks. She wasn't entirely sure if this was her fault or not. She had wanted to teach him a lesson, not fail at that endeavor completely and lose what seemed to be his prized possession. Any idiot who would fly in this weather must have some attachment to the stupid thing. He searched her eyes, they were guarded and unsure, but she wasn't lying to him. He released her jerkily, running a gloved hand through his hair. It wasn't its usual perfect sleeked back style, it was covered in little dots of white and sticking out in little peaks and horns around his head.

"I'm sorry," Hermione offered. "I'm sure once the snow melts a bit you'll find it." Draco said nothing; he merely looked to the ground confused.

"How long was I out?" Hermione shrugged. She didn't know, but it probably wasn't all that long. They had been relatively untouched by the falling snow which meant they couldn't have been there for more then a minute or so.

"I'm sure you'll find it." She shifted uncomfortably. She hadn't meant for this to happen, and her stomach twisted with the thought that she had done it. She wasn't a mean person, the spell was meant to help him, to show him how much of a prat he was and hopefully get him to change that a bit. She turned back to the Great Hall. He was a rich boy, she was sure Father Malfoy would buy him an even better broom then before, it wasn't exactly a great loss. She started towards the hall, clutching her bag to her person.

Why hadn't it worked? It had been such a simple spell, and she was certain she had done everything exactly right. Shaking her head she decided it was for the best. She had been having doubts before and now she wouldn't have to worry about the consequences, she was just a failure. It was better this way she decided. If the Gods had wanted her to suceed they would have let her, obviously Malfoy was meant to be a wanker. She made her way up the steps. She would simply pretend it hadn't happened. Malfoy would find his broom, or get another one whatever the case may be and life would return to normal. Pushing open the door she looked around, startled. The decorations were different, once mundane and oridinary they were now loud and everywhere. Music and conversation almost knocked her back off her feet. What had she missed? She reached for the door to the Great Hall, full expecting the usual smattering of left-over students enjoying a regular dinner. What she got was far different.

There were people everywhere, and food covered the tables till there was barely room to put your plate to eat. Oh my. She must have been out for longer then she thought. Two days at least it seemed. This was unmistakenably the Christmas feast. But where had all the people come from? Those first years who wanted to spend thier first Christmas here and the handful of older students who were left here for whatever reason was barely enough to make up one of the houses tables, yet the Hall was full. It seemed that everyone had returned for the feast, but that was ridiculous, why would they leave for a few days to return for one feast and just leave again? The feasts were extraordinary at Hogwarts but certainly not that grand, and this one was no memorable exception. Hermione had the feeling she had missed some very important. She recognized Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Grabbe and Goyle and various other Slytherins, laughing and throwing little gobs of food at each other goodnaturedly, typical Slytherin behavior, except for the fact that the food was directed at themselves, not the rest of the hall. Something very strange was going on. Not only were the Slytherins keeping their infantile behavior to themselves they were also joined by several members of other houses. In fact, from what she could see of the back of the tables every house was mixed up. People from Hufflepuff laughed with those from Ravenclaw, Griffyndors chatted with those from Slytherin. There was only one explanation she could reach for this. Hell had frozen over.

She had to find Harry and Ron. Perhaps they could explain this. They would probably be worried. The Christmas Feast was supposed to be two days away by her count, and it looked as though she had been gone for a lot longer then she expected. There was bound to be a question or two. She saw the familiar mop of red hair and the glasses of her friends but they were not at thier usual spot at the Gryffindor table, they were embroiled in a seemingly hilarious conversation with two Slytherins she didn't recall the names of, Ron making wild gestures with his hands as he told his story. She froze. Something very strange indeed was going on. She started again, unphased by this. If they could bear to sit with the likes of them then there was a perfectly reasonable reason for it. She froze again. There, sitting next to Harry, she saw someone she shouldn't be seeing, tossing her curly chestnut hair from her face and smiling broadly at Ron nodding her head in agreement to something he said. Hermione sat down on the ground, hard, her legs just not cooperating. 

It wasn't possible. She stared at the floor bewildered. The spell had worked it seemed but not in the way she had planned. If anyone noticed her falling to the ground they didn't say anything, in fact not an eye had been on her since she entered the room. Which was odd, usually one of Draco's cronies would toss an insult in her direction or Ron and Harry would motion her over, or at least notice there was more then one of her, given the circumstances. But they wouldn't do that today. They didn't need her to join them, for it seemed they already had her. For there, sitting across from Ron was a carbon copy of herself, eyes sparkling with mirth at something he had said. She couldn't breath. She couldn't think.

"What are you sitting on the floor for?" Draco, having composed himself after deciding that writing his father for a new broom was a healthier alternative then digging in the snow, stood over her, eyebrows raised. Hermione said nothing, she merely stared at the floor trying to figure out what to do, trying to muddle through what she had done. Draco shrugged, turning around.  
"Grabbe and Goyle are back, wonderful." And he made his way over to the table. They hadn't written him to say they were returning, but that was to be expected, he doubted they could write. As he made his way over Draco realized that something was very wrong. Obviously he had missed something, they made no move to acknowledge him as he made his way over, although he was certain they could see him, and they were actually talking. Not grunting in that usually unintelligent primate way of theirs, but actually discussing what seemed to be a very humorous story with everyone.

"What are you two doing back?" He stopped in front of them, glaring down at them with his typical look of disdain. But they ignored him as if he had said nothing at all, not even glancing in his direction as they went on with thier story, taking turns to tell the anecdote. "I said, what are you two doing back here?" Again, nothing. He clenched his fists, grinding his teeth.

"Listen to me!" He was two seconds away from stamping his feet and throwing something, much like a three year old Draco would have done when he didn't get his way. But there was no other alternative it seemed. They continued to pretend he didn't exist. Growling he leaned in, reaching between two students he didn't recognize, to grab the neck of Crabbe. His hand passed right through. He could see his clenched fingers out the back of the boy's neck, grasping at nothing. Startled he fell, sprawling over the table, landing in various plates of different food.

"What the hell?" He pushed himself back, his fingers digging into mashed potatoes, and while they covered his fingers in thier starchy clumps they looked untouched on the plate his hand was splayed across. He pushed himself up, his stomach queasy. Something very wrong was happening.

"What happened to you?" Hermione took in his appearance, gravy dripping to the floor, covered in a palette of holiday goods in varying colors and textures. His appearance made her forget what she had wanted to say. He eyed her daring her to laugh. Then he realized that she was talking to him.

"You can hear me and see me right?" She looked at him confused. She had started to put the pieces of the puzzle together moments before. It didn't make much sense but here it was. She nodded.

"Yeah. I can." He reached out, touching her arm gently. It didn't go through, it merely pushed her shoulder back a bit.

"What's going on?" He murmured to himself. He looked up at her. Hermione shifted, her potion had worked it seemed, but the effect was not what she imagined.

"They can't see you or hear you," Hermione's voice was soft, a bit nervous. "Because you don't exist here."

"That's the most ridiculous thing you've ever said to me," Draco turned away. "Been sampling the egg-nog Granger?" Hermione shook her head.

"I'm telling the truth," she reached out, fully intending to flick Pansy Parkinson in the head, but like his hand before she went straight through, her fingers curling on the other side. Pansy didn't even react, she just continued to cling to Goyle's arm, barely touching her food. "It's a spell." Then she added quickly. "I think." No use in being killed over this. It would do niether of them any good. Without her he was stuck here, and without life she wasn't much of anything.

"Someone doesn't want me to exist?" Hermione shrugged, eyeing herself over the hall. Draco didn't appear to have a clone anywhere she could see. "Could be anyone." She murmured. He glared at her. Indignant she motioned around the hall.

"You're the only one not here," to prove her point she pointed to herself, his eyes followed, taking the sight of double Hermione in.

"Then what are you doing here?" Hermione shrugged again, avoiding his eyes, feigning interest in her surroundings. It was better to lie she decided, the truth would certainly not set them free in this instance. It was liable to get one of them, namely her, killed. "Well what makes you think I'm not here then?" Hermione shifted.

"I don't see you anywhere." She motioned around the hall. "But everyone else is here. Common sense Malfoy."

"Maybe I'm off doing something else," he scanned the room, desperately trying to find...himself it seemed. And not in the philosophical way either. It was possibly the oddest conversation she'd ever engaged in. Draco crossed the room, plopping himself onto an empty bench. She followed him, wordlessly sitting down. Trying to look as surprised and confused as he. She had never been an actress but desperate times...

"I don't think you're here Draco," Hermione said softly after his eyes continued to desperately search the hall.   
"Who did this?" he turned to her. She shrugged once more, she figured she'd be doing it a whole lot.

"I've read about this sort of thing..." she trailed off.

"And?" 

"And I think it's a "Would-Be"," he snorted.

"I don't think Doctor Suess counts as research in this respect Granger. Try to think of something useful." She glared at him, a bit surprised at his knowledge of a Muggle author. She was also grateful that he hadn't realized that while she was brilliant, she wasn't brilliant enough to know something like this in an instant.

The first few seconds after her explanation left her mouth she had expected death. But Draco was accepting it as fact. It seemed that his own conceit was her ally in this instance. He was so convinced of his importance that the fact that she had noticed within in seconds that he was missing didn't seem suspicious to him.

"Fine, if you don't want to know, don't ask." And she stood up, fully intent on leaving him there to muddle out his own demise, even if it had been her fault. But his gentle hand on her arm stopped her, and the rough pull backwards had her sitting again.

"Go ahead." He motioned. "Dazzle me." She took a breath.

"I read about them a few years back," she motioned around. "A Would-Be is like an alternate universe, for lack of a better, more intellectual term."

"And we accidentally took a wrong turn in the warddrobe and found ourselves in one?" Sarcasm, just what she wanted to hear, though his knowledge of muggle children's literature was rather impressive as he went on.

"I'm being serious," she snapped at him. She didn't want to be here anymore. The result was not what she wanted at all. The result was lonely. Draco busied himself by wiping bits of food off his robes.

"Continue then." He motioned for her to go on.

"It's a place where an element is either taken out of or added to a situation."

"And you think I was taken out?"

"No, I'm sure you were." She pointed to the Slytherin table. "Don't you think you'd there if you weren't?" He shrugged.

"I don't always show up to dinner Granger. Sometimes I have more pressing things to do." She snorted.

"Oh yeah. You're just a social butterfly Malfoy." He glared at her, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe gravy off his robe.

"Alright, from what I remember it's an easy spell to do. I mean anyone could have done it."

"But why?" He looked a little scared for a moment. "Is this permament?" She shook her head, actually offering him a reassuring smile.

"No. It's just a demonstration." She shrugged. She couldn't offer him too much information or he'd get suspicious. She doubted his ego had the ability to stretch that far. She had given away to much information as it was. It was kind of flattering that he just assumed that she knew what she was talking about, right off the top of her head. "I'll have to read more to know exactly what's going on." She was being evasive she knew, but if he noticed he didn't let on. "I'm kind of impressed I knew this much."

Draco looked at the table. "Fools." He muttered. Crabbe and Goyle were telling yet another story, the adoring eyes of Pansy and Millicent never straying. "Figures though."

"What?" Hermione followed his eyes.

"Pansy and Millicent would fall all over them if I wasn't there."

"Well can you blame them? Not like they have much to work with." He looked at her.

"Was that a compliment Granger?" She snorted.

"Hardly. It's only natural that they'd go for them." She motioned to the table. "Next to you they're the richest boys in the school practically." She blinked in surprise. "You certainly keep a muzzle on them though. I don't think I've ever seen them that animated." He glared at her.

"If you're implying what I think you're implying."

"It's hardly an implication if the evidence is right in front of you," she shrugged. "Just because you're abusive doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"I'm not abusive." She shrugged.

"Well look how much better Crabbe and Goyle get on without you." It had been a cruel thing to say she knew, and for a brief instant she thought she saw a flash of hurt on his face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He shrugged, nonchalant.

"This has nothing to do with me." Although he could see the change instantly. No longer were they the quiet demure little pets of Draco Malfoy, the were animated and talkative, actually laughing without his influence for once. And they were skinnier.

"I know THAT has nothing to do with me." He murmured.

"What?" 

"They're not as bulbous." She stared at him.

"Has it ever occured to you that maybe they feed thier faces because you won't let them do anything else with thier mouths?" He glared at her, saying nothing.

"Come on little miss psychoanalyst," he grabbed her arm. Yet another Muggle thing Draco was informed about. Would wonders never cease? She didn't have a lot of time to be surprised at his knowledge, as he was pulling on her arm.

"What? Where are we going?" He yanked her towards the door.

"The library. You're going to figure this out."

"Me? Why me?"

"You're here for a reason aren't you? I'm sure that's it, you're not good for much else." She narrowed her eyes, yanking her arm from his grasp and whirled.

"Where are you going?" He turned on his heel. "We have work to do."

"No, YOU have work to do. I'm not your slave," she stormed across the hall. "I'm getting something to eat."

"But you have to help me." He continued to follow her as she marched herself up to the head of one of the tables and grabbed a plate. Surprsingly it worked, the plate rose up without protest, but it was still there on the table. Quite the bizarre paradox. She looked at it in amazement. There it was in her hand, and an exact copy of it on the table, like it had never moved at all.

"Amazing," she murmured. Draco too stared at the plate in her hand.

"We don't exist at all here do we?" He said after a moment. The thought was a bit scary. "It's not like just being a ghost or being invisible." He went on. "We affect nothing." She nodded. Forget a "bit" scary, this was more then that. She reached for a few things, spooning them onto her plate. Draco followed suit, and together they managed to get a sizable meal, all without moving a thing it seemed and disturbing no one. Still it was uncomfortable sitting near her friends and eating, hearing thier conversations, hearing her own voice without being the one who spoke the words, and not being able to respond. So she went back to where they had been sitting earlier. Draco followed without question. They were both a little spooked, and they were the only alternative to loneliness. So they ate in companionable silence, his sparked by confusion, hers by guilt.

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	3. A Double Truce

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A Christmas Gift  
Chapter 3: Double Truce  
Written By: Dizzy

Draco turned a page restlessly. He really had no idea what he was looking for, and he doubted that "Would-Be" was the technical term. Thus far it wasn't in any index he'd looked through. Hermione seemed to be having the same luck, at least that's what she let him believe. If she found the volume too fast he would probably be a little suspicious of her wonder sleuth abilities. Her memory was supposed to be excellent, but not good enough to suddenly remember a small spell she was supposed to have read something like three years ago. She finally let herself emit a noise she hoped sounded like surprised discovery. Actually it came out more an eepp if anything. He looked at her, eyebrows raised.

"Find something?" She nodded, hoping she looked excited. She pointed to the book.

"It's right here," she got up, coming to sit round on his side. She pushed it towards him, pointing to the page.

"See? It's very simplistic," he nodded, his eyes raking over the page.

"But does it tell us how we end it?" She sighed.

"Yes, but it's not as if we can just wave our wands and presto chango we're back." She pointed to the bottom.

"See. A revelation and a lesson learned."

"I think we agree that I'm the subject of this...what did you call it?" He looked at her. "Demonstration. So I'm supposed to learn a lesson?" She shrugged again. "So we attend a class in Herbology or something, I realize who did this and we're back?" Again she shrugged.

"I'm just here for research purposes." His eyes raked the page again and he stopped, pointing to it.

"I think you're here for more then that." She looked to where his finger pointed, hoping he hadn't read the page too closely. "A guide? You're my guide?" She read the sentence.

"I suppose." She closed the book hastily.

"This tells us nothing," she said standing. "I don't think we're going to find out what lesson..whoever did this..wants to teach you by reading these."

"Well, that was certainly a wasted hour." She nodded in agreement. Although she had known it would be. She already knew all this.

"Well, what do we do?"

"We do nothing," she said. "You learn your stupid lesson."

"Which is?" She sighed.

"I don't know. Don't you ever try to do anything for yourself?" He stood up to face her.

"Well you're supposed to be my bloody guide Granger. Guide me."

"I don't know how," she grabbed her bag. "Look, we should get some sleep. It's late."

"And where do you propose we do that?" He snapped. "Your little muggle-born clone is probably fast asleep in your bed and if you've forgotten I don't even HAVE one." He said the words bitterly, tossing the book onto the table. Madame Pince didn't even look up. To her the library was empty, to her the table clean.

"I don't KNOW Draco." She glared at him. "I don't know what to tell you okay?" Most if it was guilt, but some of it was her lack of control. This wasn't something she had planned on, and while she knew what she had intended for Draco to learn she hadn't counted on all of this. Or for her to be so dependent on him learning the stupid lesson. Without him doing this they would never get back, and they would be stuck in this horrible place, alone, unseen and not mattering to anyone. She wasn't used to being out of control, she wasn't used to not having the answer. She didn't know what they were going to do while they were here, and she didn't know a way out of it. And she couldn't tell him. He'd kill her.

Draco looked at her.

"Well," he sighed. "I don't know either."

"Then figure it out," she turned towards the door. "I'm sick of being the one whose supposed to have all the answers here." Anger lashed at him and he followed her, matching her stride for stride, just behind her now.

"You're the smart one right? Little Miss Know-It-All with her top notch grades and her perfect spells." She stopped, turning to glare at him.

"That doesn't mean I know what to do here okay? We're not at OUR Hogwarts anymore if you hadn't noticed. Some girl who looks like me and acts like me is talking and laughing with MY friends, and sleeping in MY bed. You're not even HERE. The world is going on without us and we don't matter here. So excuse me if where we're going to sleep is not an answer I have." He reached for her, gripping her arm in what she assumed he thought was a gentle manner, a comforting manner. Truth be told it was more painful then comforting.

"Look-" he said. "-we don't like each other, let's make no mistake of that. But we're stuck here, and whether we like it or not we can only talk to each other. So-" he took a breath, as if what he was about to say was very difficult for him, "-I'm willing to put aside our differences in the interest of getting out of here."

"Oh wonderful," she spat. "So I get to be civil to you till we're out of here and then you can go on calling me Mud-Blood and insulting my friends after that, right?" She looked at him with disgust.

"All this civility in the interest of Draco Malfoy, right?" She pushed open the doors leaving him there. Not caring what he did, or where he slept.

"That's not what I meant," he said, following her. "You twisted my words."

"It doesn't matter." Obviously he was missing the point, and until he got it she was stuck here, with no one but him. She really wished she would have planned a bit beforehand.

"Listen to me!" He did that annoying thing where he grabbed her arm, whirling her around to face him, his face dangerously close to her own. He had a thing about control, there was no doubt in her mind about that.

"Look Granger, I realize you hate me. I can't say I feel much more for you, but we can't continue acting like this if there's any chance of us getting out of here. I mean Hogwarts is a nice place and all but I don't think I fancy being stuck in this particular version all right?" He was struggling with something, his face was twisted with the thought of whatever it was.

"I'm...sorry..okay? I mean, I can't offer much more then that." He was being sincere, that much she knew. Otherwise it wouldn't have been such a trial to say one little sentence. She nodded, accepting it.

"I guess, that's enough." She looked up at him. "But whatever you're supposed to learn here...it probably isn't going to be easy..and it might be awhile before we get out of here, so I suppose it'll have to be enough." They stared at each other, a momentary truce sparking the air between them in an almost palpable tension. He released her arm, using the arm to reach up and run a hand through his hair again. It did little to tame it; it still stuck out in those peaks and horns. The effect was amusing if not a bit adorable. It was just another thing to add to the list of oddities about this place, apparently here Draco's Cardinal Perfect Hair Rule didn't follow.

"Now." he said. "WE have some things to work out."

"Like where we sleep." He nodded.

"Food obviously won't be a problem."

"Well, my bed is out," she sighed. "And yours obviously." She looked away from his face, which registered surprise at the mere thought she would even consider sharing one of the two with him. It was gone as quickly as it had come and she pressed on. "Not exactly like there's a bunch of empty easily accessible bedrooms."

"We could go to Madame Pomfrey." Hermione looked at him like he was mad.

"She can't see us either."

"I know that Granger, but she had beds." He regarded her like the imbecile she was being. But he did have a point. She nodded, a flush on her cheeks. He motioned for her to follow him.  
"We'll sleep on this tonight and tomorrow we'll start fresh," Draco was saying. "I mean how hard could it be? I'm smart, I think I can learn a lesson." Hermione snorted beside him. She wasn't so sure.

Hermione had no idea how girl's like Parvati and Lavender did this on a regular basis. She had no idea how her mother did it on a nightly basis. Sleeping with boys was annoying. Boys snored, they grunted and tossed and turned, fighting off imaginary foes in their brains and zipped around on brooms chasing stupid golden balls. She lay there, staring at the ceiling in the dim light from the windows. Draco's breathing was shallow and peaceful, broken only by the occasional mumble. It was impossible. Not only did she have his murmuring to contend with she had guilt. Hermione had gone practically her whole life without that particular emotion. She had never really done anything to warrant it. But now it was there, eating away at her. She sat up slowly. This was pointless. She tossed aside the covers and slowly put her bare feet to the cold wood of the floor. She was going for a walk.

Never had she allowed herself to indulge in such a past-time before. Wandering around Hogwarts at night was strictly forbidden and came with serious consequences. And of course Hermione had never suffered a serious consequence in her life save a few minor detentions. So it was actually freeing in a way to be utterly nonexistent. She could go where she wanted with no consequences. She pulled on her robes, and slipped into her shoes as quietly as possible, and looked over at him, a mere bed away. He looked almost normal. No scowl or look of contempt on his whole face for once. And from what she could see Draco's cuddling fetish extended beyond the Quidditch pitch. First her in the snow and now one of Madame Pomfrey's hospital pillows, not to mention a very lengthy list of rumored Hogwarts females that traipsed in and out of his bedroom like it had a revolving door. Few got stuck in it however if the rumors were true, and many tried a return trip but found the entrance blocked. She smiled. He wouldn't even notice her absence; his pillow was keeping him plenty of company.

Slowly she pushed open the door and looked out into the dark hallway. It was a bit scary, but she assumed there was nothing out there that would do her harm. After all if she couldn't harm anyone it was safe to assume she couldn't be harmed. The "if I can't see it, it doesn't exist" principle applied to her situation. She took a breath and stepped out into the hallway, drawing her wand almost immediately.

"Lumos," she whispered, a faint yellow light emitted from its tip, casting everything in dim ethereal light.

She let herself wander for about an hour and she had come to one conclusion. Hogwarts was creepy at night. The light from the wand made everything dark and shadowy, shadows that moved in and out, twisting around her, but she still pressed on. She was savoring this little rebellion for all it was worth. She peeked around a corner, her wand out. Why was she so frightened? That familiar pang and expectation of getting caught caused her stomach to flip every once in awhile, but there was no real reason for it. She just simply COULDN'T get caught, no way around it. Still, it didn't make anything less thrilling. She made her way down the hallway, realizing with a start that she had reached the Great Hall without incident. And then she noticed it.

The Gryffindor House Cup was gone, in fact so was the Hufflepuff's. In their places were two for Slytherin. Outrage crept into her veins and she pressed closer to the glass, just to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.

"Interesting." A voice said behind her. Shrieking she whirled, her wand flying from her hand to hit her attacker square in the chest. Draco smirked at her, catching the wand easily in his hands as it caught briefly on the folds of his robes before dropping into them.

"Nervous?" He asked, he held out her wand. She snatched it from his hands, embarrassment flooding her cheeks with red. But he paid her no attention, his focus was instead on the trophy case directly behind her.

"Don't tell me Slytherin's inability to get a House Cup is my fault?" He drawled. She looked backwards.

"Well, no." She thought a moment. "It's Harry's." He nodded.

"No argument from me on that one."

"Well, think about it." She looked towards the case. "Without you, Harry wouldn't be the Gryffindor Seeker. You threw the Rememberall that made Professor McGonnagle notice him."

"One of my few mistakes," he muttered. She shrugged.

"Interesting," She echoed his previous statement, if not a little less amazed. "What are you doing here anyway?" She looked away from the trophy case up to him.

"You move like a herd of elephants." She blinked, a bit taken back.

"What?"

"You have no stealth Granger. If I had been deaf I still would have heard you leave."

"Sorry." She looked a bit sheepish. He shrugged.

"I wanted to see what you were up to. Had to make sure you didn't try to sneak of without me."

"How'd you find me?" Draco shrugged again.

"I just did. I don't know. I just knew where you were," he looked at the Trophy case again. She couldn't place the expression that came over his face when he did. It was sad almost, a little guilty. Like he truly believed Slytherin's inability to win a House Cup had something to do with him.

"Malfoy," she started, but he had already turned away, acting as if he was interested in the standings board. After a moment she realized he actually was. He grabbed her arm, pulling her wand up closer to it.

"That's odd isn't it? Surely it's a mistake, or a joke." He pointed to the board. Hermione followed his finger. There, for all to see were the class standings, like they were every end of term, no surprise there. A list of the top ten adorned the board, just like every year. She still didn't get his meaning, was he just now noticing this? Then she realized he hadn't been talking about the board itself, but the names on it. She was proud to see her name at the top, apparently even in this world she was the best, but she knew that it still wasn't what he had been so intrigued about. Below hers, rather then Draco Malfoy, which had been there since before she could remember was Harry Potter's, and below that...she gasped. Neville Longbottom. 

"So I'm to be blamed for Longbottom's stupidity too am I?" He sneered at the board. "Guess I'm an all around git aren't I? Causing eating disorders, ruining House Cup chances, causing stupidity. Jack of all trades. Only good thing I've ever accomplished by being around was to get bloody fucking Potter on the Quidditch team."

"Malfoy," she started once again, the guilt was stronger then ever now. This wasn't the lesson she had in mind, and the place he was taking it wasn't a happy one. For the second time he ignored her, his robes swirling out behind him as he turned on his heel. He continued on down the hall, leaving her there in front of the board, her wand casting the lobby in a creepy little glow of yellow light. This wasn't going at all as she had planned; she was getting used to it by now. She turned, her substantially shorter legs struggling to keep up with him.

"Look, it's not as bad as all that," she said, her voice strangely high pitched.

"Oh?" He cast her a look. "I fail to see how I'm wrong."

"Well," she struggled. "I mean, maybe if you were a bit...nicer to Neville his grades would pick up a bit? I mean it's not exactly like you take it easy on him now is it?" He glared at her.

"So you ARE saying this is my fault."

"Well, you don't want me to lie do you?" She snapped. He stopped abruptly.

"Oh, cause we're above that are we?" She glared at him.

"Ever since you got here you've made Neville's life hell. I know he's not that bad all the time. And I'm certain a lot of that has to do with you and your goons."

"Again, you admit that this place would be better without me?"

"Now I didn't say that. All I meant was that maybe if you were a bit nicer to Neville and not so controlling he'd do better. Maybe." He studied her for a moment, weighing her words.

"I'll consider it," his face was pompous and more then a little infuriating but it was the best she could hope for.

"We're both still a bit stressed I supposed," she said quietly. "Why don't we revert back to the original plan and think on this tomorrow?" He nodded shortly and allowed her and her wand to lead them both back to the hospital wing. They made the trip in silence, walking side by side regarding each other in little sidelong glances. It seemed their truce was reconciled.

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	4. Troubling Discoveries

Top of Form

A Christmas Gift  
Chapter 4: Troubling Discoveries  
Author: Dizzy  
Disclaimer: Own nothing.  
Rating: PG-13 for now

"Planning to sleep all day Granger?" Hermione opened one experimental eye at the sound of the low drawl. It had broken through the slight haze that muddled her brain, casting the last vestiges of her dream away. Draco stood above her, clean now and perfectly coifed once more. His food-spotted robes still left something to be desired however; she figured he hadn't yet stolen a clean set.

"Hmmm," she rolled over. "Go away." She had been rather enjoying her lack of responsibilities that morning. It had been a long time since she had enjoyed the comforts of a good lie-in. Something like six years sadly enough.

"Did you conveniently forget that we have work to do?" She really didn't care for his tone. Extremely superior, it broke through the fog between sleep and wakefulness, yanking her back into reality.

"At this moment Malfoy, I don't much care," she murmured, rolling onto her back. "Let me be."

"No." She felt the left side of the bed sink under his weight and groaned. Letting her be didn't appear to be on his agenda for the day. He seemed intent on annoying her until she did as he asked. She opened her eyes.

The infirmary was nearly empty save for the two of them, and to the eyes of anyone in this world it was still empty. Sunlight filtered through the drapes, obtrusive and unwanted as far as she was concerned. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to ignore it. She'd just pretend he didn't exist for the moment. He was perched sullenly on the edge of the bed, glaring down at her as if that alone would rouse her. She was almost clenching her eyes shut now, her teeth gritted determinedly. He wasn't there. Just to piss him off she yawned, stretching her whole body lazily before she snuggled deeper into the bed, her hand snaking under the pillow, her legs, bare up until her skirt, brushed against the fabric of the covers. They had that soft gentle feeling of being the perfect temperature. Draco gave a growl, low in his throat.

"Get up." He bit out through clenched teeth, obviously not used to being defied. She shook her head, scrunching her nose cutely. "Fine." He gave a disgusted noise and stood, his weight letting the bed rise up again. Apparently even Draco Malfoy could get a point. She closed her eyes, finally peace. She really didn't get enough sleep she mused, fully prepared to remedy that.

Unfortunately she wouldn't be starting that particular practice, not on this morning, for just as she thought he had taken his leave of her he made his presence unpleasantly known. Draco gripped the edge of the covers, where they draped over the bed and gave them a good hard yank towards him. Hermione gave a shriek and shot up in a tangle of flailing limps and hair as the cold morning hair hit her full force.

"You-you bastard," she sputtered, pink-faced, her hair wild as she glared at him in a way that was almost comical. He simply smiled lazy at her.

"Join me for breakfast?"

Hermione's hair hung in wet strands down her back, her eyes blazing with fury at the boy across from her. He made no show of noticing her, simply dipped his spoon into his oatmeal once again, his eyes trained on the book beside him. He had obviously paid a visit to the library while she had been in the bathroom.

"Why couldn't you have just let me sleep?" She muttered, taking a sip of her milk. He didn't answer her; he just lazily flipped a page.

"I thought I'd try a few more books," Draco said after a moment of scanning the page. "See if there isn't a way to get out of here without trying to figure out the bloody lesson."

"I doubt there is," she pushed her bowl away.

"Might as well KNOW there's not," he flipped another page, eyes raking the page.

"We should attend a few classes today," Hermione said. Draco looked up then, his expression clearly telling her he thought she was mad.

"Can't you go one day without worrying about school?" Hermione sighed.

"Not to learn," she motioned around the hall, her hand taking in the students and faculty. "To observe. See what else has changed." 

"I seriously doubt my presence has affected much more." He turned another page.

"It seems to have had a big affect so far, no point in not researching it further." At his skeptical glance she sighed.

"If we don't learn anything we can always just leave."

"Hermione Granger leaving in the middle of a lesson?" He put on a shocked face, replacing the skepticism. "Never."

"I have more important things to worry about then lessons," she stood up. "Like getting out of here. Frankly I'm already sick of this place."

"Not enjoying my company Granger?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Most definitely not." She turned, fully intent on following the rest of the students to their lessons as they slowly trickled out.

"I don't see how you intend on going to a lesson if there aren't any." Draco had stood as well, closing the book and tucking it under his arm. Hermione looked at him confused and then it dawned on her. The students were still on Christmas break, the new term wouldn't start for weeks. She let out a frustrated snarl and stamped her foot.

"What now Granger?" She sighed.

"Well," she thought a moment. "We can always just follow them around." She looked to the retreating students. "Listen in on their conversations. See what's changed."

"Your plan is to eavesdrop?"

"Well it's not as if they're REAL people," Hermione snapped. "And it might give us a better idea of what's happened." Draco shrugged.

"If it's all you've got..." Hermione glared at him.

"Do you have a better idea?" Draco thought a moment and then shook his head, taking the book from under his arm and placing it back on the table.

"Who first?"

Despite his protests Draco still found himself the very last place he wanted to be. There was a certain logic in being here, however flawed it was. And he suspected Hermione's utter desire to go was more about her missing her friends then anything. So he'd followed her up the stairs, to the portrait of an absolutely immense woman in a red dress and waited patiently for someone to come along. It didn't take very long, Seamus and Dean were eager to get back and continue their explorations of their new presents. They were discussing nothing of major importance, Quidditch or some such nonsense they knew nothing about and gave the password "Fire Breather". The portrait swung open and he before he knew what was happening Hermione had pushed him inside the place he despised more then anything. The Gryffindor dormitories. Before he could change his mind and make his exit the portrait swung closed behind them. Hermione smiled at him.

"There's nothing contagious in here Malfoy," she made her way up the steps towards the common room, following the excited voices of Dean and Seamus. Rather then stand there stupidly at a loss Draco followed her, a little bit curious to see how the room differed from his own. 

Not much as it turned out. The place was brighter, warmer in decoration in the Gryffindor colors instead but its basic set up was still the same. He looked around. It was much friendlier here, people milled around chatting with friends, curled up on couches to read, or simply enjoy the fire that blazed in front of them. There had to be at least 20 people there, a sharp contrast to the 5 or so that lingered in the rather uninviting Slytherin one. Hermione's eyes lit up when she spotted them and Draco scowled. Potter and Weasley. He sighed, wanting desperately to leave again but Hermione had him by the sleeve of his robe and was dragging him over.

"Who better to watch then the people you made most miserable?" She smiled over her shoulder. So here they were, deep in the lair of the enemy, not three feet away from the people he despised most in this world.

"Where's Hermione?" Potter was saying, moving a pawn, he and the Weasel were fairly engrossed in a game of wizard's chess, the game in Weasley's obvious favor.

"She got a dress," Ron said absently. "Her and Lavender are up in their room giggling and wouldn't let me come in. She doesn't want to see me till we get ready to leave for Hogsmeade" He sighed. "I should keep her from that girl." Harry grinned at him, moving a pawn.

"You like it admit it," Harry watched as Ron's knight sent the poor pawn all over the board in shattered pieces. Hermione leaned in wondering what was going on. The closest thing she had come to a dress was the mandatory skirt all girls at Hogwarts were supposed to wear and her dress robes of course. Draco was leaning in as well, just as interested as she was.

"Of course I do," Ron said returning Harry's grin, triumph made his eyes glitter. "Who wouldn't?" In mere seconds Ron had Harry's king in jeopardy and Hermione couldn't help grin as he won for what had to be the millionth time. His natural skill at chess was surely a sight to behold.

"Where are you taking her?" Harry asked frowning at the board. Ron smiled.

"The Three Broomsticks." Harry looked at him like he was mad.

'That's your idea of a romantic outing? The Three Broomsticks."

"Kidding Harry, only kidding. Think you'll manage without us?" Hermione was confused. From what she could surmise she was up actually GIGGLING with LAVENDER about a dress she didn't own, and she was planning an outing with Ron to Hogsmeade without Harry. She looked to Draco who raised an eyebrow at her.

"Something you haven't shared with the rest of the class Granger?" She shook her head.

"I've managed to make it through walking in on several of your snogging sessions and quite a number of awkward moments of waking up to Hermione in your bed, I think I can handle one date," Harry was saying. Hermione's eyes widened and she gasped. Draco almost laughed at the expression on her face.

"Well Granger that's unexpected. Sleepovers with the Weasel..." he shook his head. Her jaw had dropped in shock, and he smiled at her wide eyes.

"I...I never..." she sputtered. She looked at Ron and then looked away, a blush tinting her cheeks. "Never." She said firmly.

"I think the facts speak for themselves," Draco said, and sent Ron a scowl. "So I'm the person holding you back from running around with Weasley?" Hermione glared at him.

"Oh you wish." He motioned to the smug, if not slightly embarrassed expression on Ron's face, telling them that everything Harry had said was true.

"How do you explain this then?" Hermione shrugged, struggling for words.

"I...I don't. It's impossible." She shook her head standing. "I'm not even ATTRACTED to Ron." She muttered more to herself then to him.

"You obviously are here," he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Any particular reason why my not being here has suddenly spurned romantic feelings for him?" He waggled his eyebrows at her. "Secret crush perhaps, Granger?"

"No." She glared at him. "Maybe we never pursued anything because we'd have YOU there breathing down our necks every day about it." He shrugged.

"Minor detail. So you admit you're attracted to him."

"I'm NOT," Hermione snapped. "I was once, but..." she struggled. "Things change." Draco sized her up. She wasn't lying, but the fact that she HAD at one time harbored secret feelings for the youngest Weasley boy WAS interesting.

"What changed?" Hermione shrugged.

"He's like a brother to me," she wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, I snogged Ron." She felt a shiver of revulsion pass through her. Incestuous as it was, in this world it was true. Draco nodded.

"I share your disgust," He looked to Weasley. "I take it you've seen enough here?" She nodded, obviously a bit uncomfortable. He grabbed her arm.

"Think I can steal a broom?" he was saying as they waited patiently for someone to open the portrait hole. "I wanted to get a bit of flying done." Hermione looked at his robes.

"Might want to steal some clean robes first, seems to be a bigger priority." 

He was really quite magnificent when he flew. Like Harry, he had a natural skill for handling the broomstick that she had never mastered; he wasn't as risky as Harry could be though, and she figured his inhibitions were what kept him from being the boy's equal. Still he was graceful and quick, zipping through the air at lightening speed. Why she was still here she didn't know; she hugged her robes around her, brushing snow off the seats of the Quidditch pitch. It was just less lonely here, near the only person she could talk to. At least he could see her, know she was watching him and know that he could talk to her if he wanted too. He had been strangely pleasant this past day and a half; realizing, like she had, that it would not do to alienate the only person he had. Being completely alone could drive a person crazy, which was why she expected she was here, book in hand, glancing up now and then to watch him soar through the sky.

He was insane that was for sure. It was freezing out, even on the ground, and there he was whipping through the air at high speeds, seemingly unaffected by the cold. Then again it seemed to go with his personality. Cold, unyielding, not really caring how it made you feel. She sighed, turning a page, not really reading a word. She really needed to get out of here. Being on good terms with Draco Malfoy was the last thing she needed. He would twist and mold it into something horrible only to spit it back into her face.

It was twenty more minutes before he finished, landing close to the bleachers, his hair wet with sweat and windblown, his usually pale cheeks rose, his lips almost blue. His eyes were sparkling though from the exertion, from the thrill of it, and Hermione almost gave him a smile.

"Finished?" She closed the book and he nodded.

"I thought we might get a bit more done in the library," Hermione said. "Like you suggested this morning, perhaps we'll run across something." Draco nodded, brushing a stray blonde hair from his forehead, his breath coming out in short pants and gasps. He dropped the broom into the snow, where it sunk and after a few moments disappeared completely.

"You've been here all this time?" he said, his voice was practically gone from breathing in the harsh air. She nodded.

"I didn't have anywhere else to go." He looked at her, his eyes locked with hers.

"Why didn't you grab a broom?" Hermione snorted.

"Me? I can't fly," he gave her a look that suggested she had just informed him the sky was purple and any second unicorns would be raining from it.

"Everyone can fly," he said after a moment. She shook her head.

"Not me, I'm hopeless," she sighed. "I can get about this high." She held her hand just above her head. "And then I fall off." He shook his head.

"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard." She glared him.

"Not everyone can be as naturally skilled as you Malfoy." He smirked at her, raising his eyebrows.

"You think I have skill Granger? I'm flattered." Hermione didn't respond she merely turned around; book clutched in her fingers and stalked towards the school.

Just like the previous day not an hour passed before Draco was complaining about his boredom. He growled, slamming another book closed and shot her a look. She was ignoring him it seemed, leaning back comfortably in her chair, her feet hooked around the first two legs, biting her lip as she rocked gently back and forth. Her eyes darted across the page with amazing speed, taking in the information on it, her fingers flipping the pages every so often. There were at least 40 books on the table, all just as useless now as they had been yesterday. Not a word of information in them that could be even remotely helpful unless he wanted to rid himself of acne he didn't have, or perfect a charm for cleaning his wand. He reached for another book. If he didn't get out of here soon he would promptly go mad. Having no one but Hermione Granger for company was enough to send him to the St. Mungo's. She looked at him briefly, lowering her chair to the ground as she continued her search for information that simply wasn't there. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and bit her lip. He watched her for a moment, and then tore his eyes away, returning them to the book. It was the same one she had found the spell in the previous day. Perhaps she had missed something.

He opened it, absently flipping the pages. His eyes caught the spell and he opened the book, settling back in his chair, propping one booted foot up onto the table. She eyed him for a moment with displeasure but continued to ignore him. His eyes raked the page, nothing useful here. He looked at the ingredients, the procedure, the brief explanation of the spell and it's effects, lesson learned, revelation blah blah. Then he saw it. Down at the bottom of the page was a small footnote, so small in fact he had to lean closer just to read the tiny print.

"For further information on the complications of this spells and the reason for its dangerous reputation consult Wizarding Blunders: Spells that Ought Not Be Meddled with by Carlton Franks." He narrowed his eyes and closed the book.

"I'll be back." He stood, tossing the book onto the table, and before she could question him he had disappeared into the stacks.

"Useless git," she murmured, turning a page. Although she wasn't of much use herself. There simply wasn't anything anywhere about this stupid spell. Nothing useful anyway. There was a brief mention of a man who had become trapped in the world he had created, going slowly insane with every passing day, until finally after twenty years of wandering he had finally come across the answer. His mind was too far gone by then to have it make much difference. The story wasn't in the least bit hopeful. Being stuck here for twenty years with Malfoy was enough to make her want to throw herself off the cliff into the lake. Minutes passed and still he didn't return. Hermione looked at the stack of books on the table, disgusted. Never in her years at Hogwarts had she had so much trouble finding something, and now that it was most important she was useless.

"Malfoy," she called and stood. "Are you still here?" She walked over to the shelves, looking down one row, and then going to another. She knew he was still in the room, that tugging feeling in her gut and the reassurance of this fact in her mind told her that. She just seemed to know where to find him, or where he was generally located. She moved from row to row, finally seeing the boy, his eyes wide, his expression troubled. He was leaning against a shelf, a book opened on one of the ledges, his fingers following the words with desperation.

"Malfoy," she said. He looked up, dropping the book. His mouth opened and closed for a moment and for the first time in all her years there she was standing before a speechless Malfoy. His eyes raked her face for a moment, as if searching for something.

Draco's mind spun, troubled with feelings he couldn't quite place. He looked over her face, searching for a sign that what he had read was true. She did indeed look paler, her eyes a little tired, but he had woken her up rather early that morning, and they had been pouring over a bunch of useless books for the better part of the hour. He prayed that it was just his imagination.

"Are you feeling all right?" he blurted out, taking a step towards her. Hermione looked at him like he was insane.

"Fine," she looked at him. "Are you?" He nodded, running a nervous hand through his hair. He couldn't tell her what he'd found, he could barely believe it himself. He didn't WANT to believe it. He picked up the book, quickly returning it to the shelf.

"What were you reading?" She took a step forward, but he stopped her, blocking her view of the book by grabbing her arm.

"Quidditch strategies," he said hastily. "Look there's nothing here that will help us. Why don't we go find something to do?" Hermione cast a look behind her, but allowed him to drag her out of the library. As they walked, his steps quick, hers struggling to keep up. His expression was an odd one, no longer superior, no longer contemptuous. He looked almost fearful. And every few minutes he would cast a look at her, one of almost searing concern. Something was wrong.

"Malfoy?" She reached to touch the hand that gripped her arm. He ignored her, continuing to drag her along.

"Let's go to Hogsmeade," he was saying. I'm sure we could hitch a ride on one of the carriages, maybe swipe some candy from the shop."

"Malfoy what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong with me," he snapped.

"You're hurting me," she said quietly as he continued to drag her along. Immediately his grip lessened, becoming almost gentle, and he placed a hand at the small of her back.

"Is anything wrong with you?" He asked her quickly.

"No, again, I'm fine." She stopped, refusing to go further. "Tell me what's wrong." His eyes caught hers, and she could see the guilt and concern in their depths, the troubled expression on his face. It was the most un-Malfoy thing she had ever seen, completely out of character for him. It was very unnerving.

"Nothing," he said. Hermione knew that he was lying, something WAS wrong, something that had him so worried he was actually being nice to her. His hand went to the small of her back. The urgency in his touch sent a bolt of fear through her. Something was horribly wrong indeed.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	5. The CandyWar

Top of Form

A Christmas Gift  
Chapter 5: The Candy-War  
Author: Dizzy  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The trip to Hogsmeade had been the worst ever. They took it in silence, the tension between them at an all time high today. The clouds had disappeared, the sun was shining, making the ground sparkle, but not even the beautiful day could break the awkwardness.

Draco hadn't said more then two words to her since they'd left the library. It was disconcerting to say the least. Usually he'd have something to say, be it negative or not. But he just sat there across from her in the carriage they shared with two fairly boring Ravenclaw third years. They were girls who, like Draco and Hermione, weren't speaking to each other. The carriage rocked gently back and forth as it made its way to the small village, and the only sound was the wheel's gentle swish as they made their way through the snow.

Hermione found herself glancing at him, catching his eyes on her more then a few times. He continued to regard her in that searching way, as if looking for something, and the moment her eyes met his he'd look away again, his jaw clenched, a muscle ticking away in his cheek. She couldn't figure out for the life of her what she had done to anger him so much. They had been getting on fairly well these past couple of days, a minimum of fights, even an understanding. And now...now she didn't know. 

"Will you please tell me what's wrong?" Frustration made her words angry, and Draco glared at her.

"No."

"Why?" Draco ignored her, continuing to act completely interested in the passing landscape. She twisted in her seat, glaring at him.

"Fine," she snapped. She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back in the seat, pouting like a petulant child. Draco looked at her, an eyebrow raised. It was almost cute, her face screwed up in annoyance, her lips pursed in frustration, looking for all the world like a three year old who was being forced to take a nap against its will. He almost smiled.

"Don't be like that," he said gently. She continued to glare at him.

"I could say the same to you," she snapped. Draco growled at her.

"Look. If I wanted you to know I'd tell you all right?" He snapped right back at her.

Hermione grumbled something that sounded like "stubborn arse" and then looked out the window. Draco shrugged to himself, if she wanted to be that way it was no concern of his. Except it was. His mind went back to that horrible passage, the one he wished he had never read. The one that was troubling him more then anything about their situation thus far.

"This lesson-" he found himself saying before he could stop himself. "is fairly obvious isn't it?" Hermione looked at him now, her eyes still angry.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it's obvious what they wanted me to learn." Hermione leaned forward a bit, interested.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Draco shrugged. "They wanted me to see how much better the world would be without me." Hermione shook her head.

"Malfoy, I don't think that's-" He ignored her and went on.

"Why else wouldn't I be here?" He shrugged. "I won't dispute that it's better for everyone else with me gone. I mean look at what I've cause by being here."

"I think you're missing the point-" Hermione started again.

"Am I?" Hermione shrugged, suddenly remembering that she was supposed to know nothing.

"I think so."

"All I know is that we have to solve it fast," he said, looking at her in that way again.

"I don't know. It seems we have all the time in the world here," Hermione looked out the window again. Draco shook his head.

"We don't." His voice was so forceful, leaving no room for argument she jumped a bit startled.

"Well, why shouldn't we?"

Draco swallowed. "We just don't okay?" And once again they slipped into the uncomfortable, untrusting silence of before.

Hogsmeade was alight with activity. Students bustled too and fro, laden with packages bought with their Christmas money, laughing and chatting about nothing of vast importance.

Beside her Draco walked, close but somehow so far away. She kept casting concerned glances at him, wondering what had changed.

"Let's go in here," his tone was clipped and sure. His hand reached down, gripping her wrist in the almost familiar gentle firmness, pulling her towards it. Sighing, she followed him into the familiar candy store, it was useless to struggle. He was used to getting his way. Used to control, and sadly she was becoming used to it after only two days in his exclusive company.

He pushed open the door of the shop, which was only moderately full, a majority of the students had already been here, and had moved on down the way. There were a few stragglers, ogling the candy, a few casting wistful glances at the more expensive varieties. She wondered absently where Ron and Harry were, if they had been here already.

Draco, like all the other boys she knew pushed right passed the prettier, decorative candies, past the more the pleasant bonbons and went right to the back, where all sorts of boy friendly candies lay. There were Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, Sour Serpents, Whirling Wasps, an assortment of what looked like very realistic bugs, and a thousand tiny pellets of multicolored sweetness perfect for flicking at unsuspecting victims, and on a rack just beyond those was a display of slingshots in varying sizes just for that purpose. Draco released her wrist, and picked up something she had never seen before, a smile coming over his face.

"Have you tried these?" He looked over his shoulder at her, holding the box up so she could see it. The box itself was a bright shiny sliver, small and palm sized, a black ribbon tied securely around it. She shook her head, stepping a bit closer to examine it. Draco held it down at her eyelevel, and she could see through the small window covered in filament. There was a tiny brown dragon, pawing at the cardboard ground, breathing little puffs of white smoke.

"What is it?" Draco smiled.

"Only the best candy in this bleedin shop," he picked up one for her from the shelf, where written in small red letters were the words "Dragon Tongues". "They're like chocolate frogs, only much, much better." He placed it in her palm. Slowly he opened his own.

"You put them on your tongue," he said.

"And then what?" There was a glint in his eyes she really cared nothing for. The same glint the Weasley twins got when they had invented some new charmed food for some poor unsuspecting victim to try.

"Just do it." He sighed.

"You first." 

Draco shrugged, reaching into the box, his fingers closing around the twisting Dragon's middle. It tried to snap at him, but it's movements were slow and stiff.

"Won't it bite you?" Draco shook his head, that same mischievous smile on his face that she had seen whenever he had a particularly nasty prank in mind. She didn't trust him a bit.

Draco opened his mouth, and placed the tiny dragon on his tongue, between his perfectly straight teeth, closing his mouth around it. She thought she heard him snort, his mouth moving at odd angles for a minute, as he struggled not to laugh.

The Dragon was tickling him he realized, and the thought that Draco Malfoy could be ticklish was an odd one. He continued to let the Dragon frolic in his mouth, his cheeks puffing out on one side and then the other as the Dragon ran about, and then she heard a hiss and Draco closed his eyes in something she recognized as pure pleasure. She blushed at the look of ecstasy on his face and look away. He swallowed.

"Best parts the last part."

"I can see that." 

Draco motioned to her box. "You try."

She looked at it warily, but steeled her nerves. If Malfoy could do it she could do it. Slowly she reached in, trying to grasp the squirming dragon, who darted from one side of the box to the other, her fingers missing him every time. She growled in frustration, her fingers twirling around the box. She felt like an idiot. Draco shook his head, sighing.

"Remind me to never partner up with you in Hagrid's class. You're useless when it comes to moving things," he took the box from her, dipping his fingers inside and expertly plucked the dragon from it.

"If you think I' m eating that after your hands have been on it you're crazy," she said, watching the dragon squirm between the long pale fingers.

"Just DO it Granger," Draco growled in frustration.

"I don't know where those have been." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Frankly I don't want to know." Draco rolled his eyes.

"If you didn't make such good marks I'd think you an idiot." She glared at him, fully prepared to take her leave but he stepped in front of her. "Live a little." The mischievous glint was replaced by daring now, and superiority. He didn't believe she would accept his challenge. She held out her hand. He placed the dragon in it, but before she could close her palm to catch it, it skittered away, falling to the floor and running under the shelf. Draco snorted.

"Like I said, useless." He grabbed another box. "Let me handle this Granger." Again he plucked the Dragon from its box with an ease that made her blood boil. "Open." He commanded, holding the new dragon squirming in his fingers. Against her will her mouth fell open, holding her breath. Draco wrinkled his nose in feigned disgust.

"For a girl with muggle dentists for parents you sure aren't much on dental hygiene."

Hermione's mouth snapped shut with and again she started to push past him. But he chuckled. She wondered for a moment how he knew that bit of information.

"A joke Granger," he stood in front her. "Now open up." Sighing, knowing he wouldn't leave her alone till she did, she let her mouth fall open once more.

He placed the little dragon on her tongue, the act itself strangely intimate. His fingers brushed her lips as she tried to close them to prevent the dragon from leaping out. She blushed, looking away, choosing to concentrate instead on the squirming thing in her mouth.

It did tickle. She could feel its tiny feet on her tongue, on the roof of her mouth, the inside of her cheeks and she couldn't help but giggle. Her hand went to her mouth as she did so, the tiny sounds uncontrollable, but she didn't want her mouth to open because of them and lose it, which would make her look like a fool.

Draco was almost smiling now. She looked so surprised, her eyes full of mirth as tiny sounds of laughter emitted from her closed mouth. His eyes twinkled as he waited for what he knew would come.

The dragon tasted of chocolate, and a spice she couldn't place, and as it squirmed she could feel the magic that charmed it slowly wearing off as its movements became slow and sluggish. Then she heard the hiss and she almost fell over from the sensation.

It was a taste so sweet and rich it fair knocked her off her toes, the feeling of released air in her mouth, sweet air, air that had her closing her eyes trying to savor the sensation, the flavor of it just as Malfoy had done seconds earlier. It was indescribable.

Draco looked at her, eyes closed, making uncontrollable hmming noises. He did smile then. After the taste faded away her eyes opened again, looking at him in surprise.

"That was so good," she breathed. Draco nodded.

"I know." She looked at the display again.

"What was that? At the end?" Draco leaned down, pointing into the window of a box at a snorting dragon, the fine mist coming out of his nose.

"When the magic wears off the dragon lets out a little puff of that mist, which is supposed to be its fire."

"And what's the mist?" Draco shrugged.

"Whatever you want it to be."

"No wonder they're so expensive," she looked at the price, one of these would be more then half of her Christmas money. Draco nodded.

"They're even kind of rich for MY blood." He said. Hermione raised an eyebrow, seriously doubting that. "But they're free today." He grabbed a few of them, shoving them into the black messenger bag that, like her bag, was ever present as his side. Although she didn't think it was laden with school books and extra quills and ink pots like hers. Probably it held a slingshot like the ones on display and a million little shootable candies, not to mention whatever else teenage boys carried with them.

"That's stealing." She said finally. Draco looked at her like she completely insane.

"No, it's not." 

"It is." She looked at him. "You didn't pay for them."

"Yeah, but technically they're still there, aren't they?" He shoved a couple more in his bag. He had a point. Hermione took two, putting them in her own bag, and then moved on down the line, a few chocolate roses, and those cute little hot cocoa spoons with the marshmallows on them that if you dipped in hot milk and swirled them around they made the most delicious hot cocoa she'd ever tasted.

Draco began to grab whatever he could, little beady candies, a slingshot, a few chocolate frogs, a box of Bertie Botts, a few of the Wasps, and a couple of the Serpents. They were like kids in a candy store. 

Hermione was bent, trying to decide if she really wanted to eat one of the cookies or if she just found them pretty, with their almost lifelike pictures. She had never had one before and she was trying to decide if now was the time to do so when she felt a tiny tap on her head, and then another on her back. She whirled.

Draco was innocently bent over the multicolored lollipops, studying them with more interest then necessary. She glared at him and crossed the room, grabbing a slingshot of her own and a handful of the little pellet candies, which she shoved into the pockets of her robe for easy access. She returned to the cookies again, daring him to try it again as she debated with herself. She really wanted to display the cookies as pretty as they were, she'd feel guilty eating them. She felt the little tap again, on her back and she whirled, fumbling in her pockets for a little pellet. She drew out a yellow one, readied the slingshot and fired.

She struck him right in the face, just under his eye on one of those haughty aristocratic cheekbones. He glared at her, his eyes giving her the unmistakable impression she had entered a war. He held up his own slingshot, already loaded with a red pellet and nailed her right on her shoulder. She let out a little eep of indignation and drew out a green one, loading her own, sending it flying where it bounced right off his nose.

He shot again, but she ducked behind the case of chocolate bonbons just in time, and it pinged harmlessly off the glass. He let out a growl and went to a new vantage point. Hermione reloaded, pulling back the rubber, and then sent a blue one flying towards him. But he dodged it easily, sending back a maroon one which bounced off her forehead. 

Hermione let out another little eep and then they began attacking each other ruthlessly. Shots flying across the shop as fast as they could load them, the ping of snapping rubber and the tiny little taps as the candies hit everything but their mark. They didn't even bother to aim, just shot in the general direction of their opponent, cheeks flushed with the desire to win and out of breath from running back and forth over the small expanse of the small shop. 

It was great fun while it lasted, but soon Hermione found herself without ammo, and on the other side of the store completely. Malfoy smiled in triumph, gesturing to the bin of the little pellet candies that was no more then 4 feet away from him.

"Do you yield?" He raised his slingshot, a red pellet glinting dangerously in the light, aimed right for her forehead. She sighed and nodded. "Say it." He commanded, punctuating each word by a wave of the ready slingshot.

"I yield," she growled in frustration. He gave a cocky triumphant grin and held up the slingshot high the air. She rolled her eyes, picking up her bag, which had fallen unnoticed by the display of pastries. Draco tossed his slingshot beside her forgotten one on the display case.

"You fought bravely Granger, but alas the better man won." She smirked.

"Oh yeah. You've proved your candy war prowess with this one Malfoy." He nodded, puffing his chest out.

"Too right." 

"Are you quite finished?" She snapped and he nodded, still grinning.

"You're certainly a sore loser Granger," she sighed, ignoring him

"What now?" She asked. Draco shrugged, still elated from his win, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his robes.

"I suppose we should get some dinner." Draco said. "And I know just the place."


	6. Walk With Me Snow Angel

Top of Form

A Christmas Gift  
Chapter 6: Walk With Me Snow Angel  
Author: Dizzy  
Disclaimer: I own crap.

Hermione couldn't remember ever wandering this far down the Hogsmeade strip with Harry and Ron. Like all towns and cities there were the good safe sides with their shops and pubs, and there were the seedier parts that Hermione usually kept herself from visiting. Until tonight.

It was already dark when they left the candy shop. They had spent close to two hours in it, battling it out with the tiny colored pellets of candy. The night wasn't cold, the sun from the day had warmed the air but left the snow. As they walked Hermione couldn't help but be struck by the perfection of the night. Draco was actually being civil, even charming, treating her with friendly respect. There was the occasional smarmy comment of course, but that was Malfoy being Malfoy and she couldn't help but warm up to him. He had kept the comments over the years at a minimum when directed towards her, usually reserving them for the moment when she rushed to the defense of her friends. The war it seemed was never between her and Draco, if his behavior was any indication of the way he felt, but between Draco and her friends, and she was caught in the crossfire. She didn't like him of course, he was still a silly prat with a stone tablet for a heart, but she felt like he was really starting to learn the lesson, and hopefully get them out of this place.

"Where are we going?" Hermione looked up at him, realizing they were close to the outskirts.

"It's called The Facade." Draco steered her towards what appeared to be the tiniest, most derelict house she had ever seen. Shutters hung from singular nails, windows were broken out by rocks thrown by forceful teenage hands, the roof was holey and probably prone to do more then leak. it looked more prone to collapse.

She sputtered, stopping in her tracks.

"We can't eat there!" She said indignantly. "Think of the bugs!" She dug her heels in as Draco pushed against the small of her back, all but pulling her by the waist towards the hovel.

"Malfoy this is ridiculous," she muttered, finally giving in to the much stronger boy.

"Trust me," she gave him the typical raised eyebrow. "Okay. I see your point." He nodded. "But it'll be worth it I promise." 

Hermione had been squeezing her eyes shut, feeling the rotted wood of the porch sink beneath her weight and threaten to collapse. She heard the creak of the door, and a whoosh of smells so pleasant and heartwarming they left her breathless for a moment, greeted them. Her eyes popped open and she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

Outside it was a hovel, but inside it was a palace. She could see where it had gotten its name.

Along the impossibly high walls were marble columns, eight on each side of the long room, connected at the roof by pointed arches. A large velvet curtain ran the length of them, casting the room in darkness, lit only by ornate iron candelabras, one between each set.

There were about six small intimate tables, with high-backed armchairs, upholstered in the same red velvet as the curtains, a single white candle burned in the middle and onyx china decorated the surface with sterling silverware glinting in the candle light.

"As you can guess it doesn't get much business," Draco was saying, smirking down at her. "I'm sure you can understand a close-minded person." She glared up at him briefly before returning her full attention to the room.

There were four other people in the room, no help whatsoever anywhere that she could see. They leaned over the table, clutching hands, grinning stupidly.

"Let's get some grub shall we?" Draco swept her over to a table, pulling out the huge armchair for her. But he didn't sit himself.

Instead he walked over to Couple Number One, taking a plate from the male and a plate the female, balancing one of them in the crook between his chest and elbow before he went over to the other table and did the same. A plate balanced in each crook, held in each hand. And he carefully made his way over to her.

"Take your pick," she helped him with two of the plates.

"I figure we could have a little bit of everything." He pointed to the table. "No menus."

"And what dinner would be complete-" he snatched a half empty bottle of wine from one of the tables. "-without a little refreshment?"

"Draco-" Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "-I don't think that's-" he shook his head, already pouring some into the flute ahead of the china.

"Nonsense Granger, you might as well take advantage of the lack of rules," he sat across from her, pouring himself a liberal amount of the dark red wine. "For once."

She glared at him for a moment, and forced herself to pick up the flute. He took a sip, his gray eyes challenging over hers, an eyebrow quirked in amusement. She continued to glare, giving him a defiant smirk. She raised her glass and took a sip.

Hermione had tasted wine before, of course. Her parents were the traditional type that felt holiday meals weren't complete without a small glass of wine for the kids and liberal amounts for the adults. They were the staunch aristocratic breed that had been raised to believe that alcohol was as natural as water. If Jesus drank it, so could they. But this was like no wine she had ever tasted. Rich and sweet, the smell of it increasing the sensation of the cool liquid on her tongue. She closed her eyes, breathing deep.

"Nayamban Vineyards," Draco said shortly, averting his eyes from the look on her face. She nodded at him, eyes still closed. "Finest in the world."

Hermione swallowed delicately.

"I believe it." Draco said nothing, simply swallowed and began spooning small portions of food onto his own plate. She followed suit, the wine leaving a beautiful aftertaste in her mouth.

"I'm impressed Granger," Draco said between bites. She looked up from her plate, startled. A compliment? Who would have thought? "I didn't believe you had it in you to break one of the biggest rules Hogwarts has to offer."

"Well," Hermione struggled. "It's not like...it applies here."

"Too right." With that Draco took another sip and then raised his glass. "A toast." She raised her own.

"To what?"

"To the only good thing about this place." Hermione wasn't sure if he meant the wine, the rules or something else entirely. Their glasses clinked.

Heady with the wine and the food Hermione stifled a giggle as she stumbled a bit in the snow. Draco cast her a glance.

"You all right there Granger?" She nodded, blushing slightly and smoothing her robes in what she hoped was an unhurried graceful fashion. Her voice came out amused.

"Fine. Fine." 

"You're looking a bit on the pissed side."

She glared at him, every motion dramatic as she put her nose in the air and walked ahead of him a bit.

"I most certainly am not!" There was a chuckle from the boy as he increased his stride to keep up with her.

"Sure you aren't."

They walked in silence for a few minutes before she started giggling again.

There was an exasperated sigh from Draco who stopped, since she had stopped.

"What now?"

"You shot me with candy." She was still giggling, which only increased at the expression he gave her.

"Yeah?"

"It's just funny." She put her hands on her hips, feigning an amused scowl. "I am Draco Malfoy. I have the sense of humor of a dried fig. I will shoot you with candy now."

He gave her a glare.

"I have a wonderful sense of humor thank you," Hermione shot him a look.

"No one else finds your antics amusing."

"I only gave you two and a half glasses of wine," Draco said confused. "You have the alcohol tolerance of a premature infant."

"You're one to talk."

"I have the Malfoy Tolerance," he puffed his chest out importantly.

"Oh! That's why you only stumble on every THIRD step," she giggled again and continued onward. Draco sent her a glare and continued to follow her.

"Very amusing. Really." He made a show of holding his stomach in feigned laughter.

"You are no fun," Hermione said, skipping a bit in the snow, kicking it with the toes of her boots.

"You would know," Draco sneered. "A whole sixteen years of experience under your belt and all." It was Hermione's turn to glare, she put her nose in the air again, huffing indignantly.

"I am too fun."

"You also have a beautiful way with words when you're drunk," Draco nodded. "Stunningly clever, really."

She glared at him again. She was still warm from the wine, and feeling a little bit squiffy to tell the truth. She felt like doing something completely outrageous, like dancing, or spinning, or walking a tightrope. The wine had been so good, and it was such a new, thrilling experience to be drinking it without the supervision of her parents, without the rules of Hogwarts hanging over her head.

"I'm not drunk," she said. "I am a bit...buzzed is it?" Draco smirked.

"Yeah. Buzzed." 

"I've only ever had a half a glass of wine at a time before," Hermione said, her voice wistful. "And it was NOT from the Nimbooboo Vineyards or whatever."

"It is a very potent wine." Draco was practically grinning now, so amused was he by the girl beside him. All thoughts of his discovery in the library gone, surely this girl before him couldn't be...he shook his head. She was fine.

"It'll be a long walk back," Draco said. Hermione nodded, and then suddenly without warning stuck her arms out and fell backwards into the snow. Startled Draco went to reach for her but she let out "Don't!" and then started moving her arms up and down, her legs scissoring back and forth.

"What are you DOING?" Draco was beyond angry. "I thought-I thought you-" he sputtered. He didn't want to think of what he'd thought. His mind flew back to the book. For a brief moment he'd thought it was happening before him, that the first signs were appearing.

"Snow angel," Hermione said simply. "I had the sudden urge to make one." She lay there for a moment, cold snow tickling her ears. "The only problem with a snow angel is getting up without disturbing it."

So she lay for a moment. Draco looked perplexed. This was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever taken part in. Walking down a deserted dark street with a girl he absolutely loathed, watching her "buzzed" person make snow angels, and all while scaring the magic out of him.

"Make one." Hermione said. "Right there." She pointed to the ground beside her. Draco looked horrified.

"Absolutely NOT." Hermione sighed, still lying there, almost comically in the snow. She gave him a funny expression, like trying to persuade a child to take a nap.

"It's fuuun," she sang.

"I don't see how flopping around in the snow like a trout struggling for air can be fun."

"Won't know till you try," she continued in that singsong voice. "Scared of making a fool of yourself?"

With that Draco turned around and flung himself backwards into the snow, if not a bit too hard, almost knocking the wind out of himself.

"Me a fool? Never in my life." He said breathlessly.

"Except for those daily basis occurrences." Hermione said joyfully. He glared at the sky, which was completely clear save for a few snaking clouds.

"Now what?" He lay there, rigid. Hermione sighed.

"You Malfoy's know nothing." She began that strange motion of moving her arms up and down in a wide arc and scissoring her legs back and forth. "Do this." So he did, feeling like a fool with every passing moment. 

"What's the point?"

"There isn't one." Hermione said, she picked herself up, balancing somewhat uneasily on her knees before jumping out of the snow angel. It was only a bit marred where her feet had sunk into it. She frowned.

Draco leapt up, leaving a track of footprints all through the skirt of his snow angel all the way to Hermione.

"You messed it up," she pointed. He glared at her.

"I did not."

"You did too." 

"It looks fine."

"It looks like it got run over by a giant."

"It's the style of its dress."

"Angel's do not have shoe prints on their dresses." She turned, flouncing off.

"Oh and you would know? Obviously being such an obvious one yourself," he sneered. She nodded.

"Of course! I am like the Ghost of Christmas Past," she did a little curtsey in the snow, it clung to her robes from the angel and made her hair wet and shiny. "And you are Scrooge."

"Who?" Hermione shook her head.

"It's not important." She waved her hands dismissing him. "Forget I even mentioned it."

"No." Draco followed her. "Who's Scrooge?"

"Read A Christmas Carol and you'll know," she continued to walk, humming to herself. He had known a lot of other muggle literature up till this point. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch.

It had been, for all accounts a splendid evening, even if it was in the company of a Malfoy, granted, a somewhat more enjoyable Malfoy. He was better by himself she decided. Less prone to little comments about her person, or her friend's.

"You want me to read a book about a Christmas song?" Draco asked confused.

"Just READ it. Dickens. Muggle section of the library." Draco rolled his eyes. Any second and she'd tell him what shelf and how many volumes over. 

"Why don't you go home for Christmas anymore?" Hermione asked after they walked in awkward silence for a moment. Her courage was at an all time high, and she doubted such an opportunity would present itself. Draco gave a shrug.

"I get just as much "Christmas Joy" at Hogwarts as there." He said it with such a sneer she flinched.

"Why didn't you?" He challenged, his eyes flashing. Hermione looked sad for a moment.

"My parents went to my Grandmother's," she gave a little sigh. "They thought I should try something different for Christmas." Draco nodded, and again they lapsed into the silence that occupied so much of their time together.

They reached Hogwarts late, the sky had lightened a little, signaling the approaching darkness before the dawn. They hadn't spoken in a little over an hour, but it was no longer uncomfortable, it was almost like they were lost, deep in their thoughts, walking close together warmed by wine and the merry time of the day. It was the first time they'd ever had such fun, and for it to be with each other was strange.

Draco shook his head, his eyes drifting over the snow, sparkling as it had in the day under the soft white light, drifting towards the lake, and drifting further still to the goals of the Quidditch pitch.

It wasn't such a bad thing really. Apart from the utter invisibility it was almost pleasant. Without the influence of those horrid friends of her Hermione Granger was almost decent. He looked at the girl in question, who was still feeling the effects of the wine, skipping every few steps, smiling to herself, her thoughts her own. She looked up at him and grinned, he felt himself returning it, but only slightly.

"I actually had a good time today Granger," he said finally, his eyes trained forward, watching her reaction out of their corners. She nodded.

"Me too." She tapped her chin in dramatic thoughtfulness. "Who woulda thought?"

"Certainly not me."

"Don't worry it's only temporary." Her voice sounded almost sad, a little wistful. He stopped, looking at her.

"Temporary?" He felt his stomach clench. Had she read what he had read? Did she know?

"Of course."

She stopped too, standing just ahead of him. "Once we get out of here you'll go back to your Slytherins and me to my Gryffindors and we'll just forget it ever happened." He felt relief flood him.

"Oh." He frowned. "Not necessarily."

"Riiight," she rolled her eyes. "Tell me another one."

"Well this piece of string goes into a bar..."

She rolled her eyes again. "Come on Draco. I'm tired."

Draco however was not tired. He waited until her breath became slow and even before he slipped out of his bed, still dressed in the clothes from the day. He needed to find out more. He needed to be sure...

He cast a look at her sleeping form, the moonlight made her look unnaturally pale, her hair fanning about her face on the pillow. She was all whiteness and purity laying there framed in the light from the window. She looked like a-

"Snow angel," he whispered. He shook his head. He needed to get to the library.

Unlike Hermione, Draco had the ability to be stealthy on his side. He made only the slightest fraction of noise as he crossed the room, pulling open the large double doors. The girl didn't even stir, her breathing didn't change. He just needed to be sure.

He practically ran the distance to the library. He loved to run. The feel of the wind in his hair, his feet pounding on the concrete. He especially loved running indoors. It was possibly the only thing Malfoy Manor was good for.

He reached it in record time, pale cheeks flushed, breath coming in ragged gasps as he pushed open the doors and stepped into the dark room. He drew his wand.

"Lumos," he whispered, making his way to the same shelf he had been at earlier. He knew exactly where it would be. It had haunted his thoughts all day.

His eyes scanned the shelves and then fell on the black book, still there on the edge of the bottom most shelf, where he had haphazardly stuck it when Hermione had caught him. He picked it up, not realizing he had been holding what little breath he had left after his run, until he let it out with a loud whoosh. He looked around, and then remembered his situation. No one could hear him.

Holding the glowing tip of the wand closer to the book he opened it, his fingers turning the pages quickly until he found it. His eyes scanned the page for the passage. Praying that he had read it wrong, that it was a selective case, that it was a different spell, praying for anything but the truth really.

"Although this particular version of the spell has fallen out of favor with the Ministry due to it's questionable outcomes it has not yet been banned in the wizarding world. Not a very popular method of punishment it practically ceased practice in 1904 with the demise of Henry Weatherbee, a prominent school teacher from Luxembourg. A particular "hidden" side affect of the spell is its draining nature which takes a toll on the "Spirit Guide" as the spell drives on. It makes them ill, almost on the brink of death, and in some cases kills the Spirit Guide entirely, leaving the intended target stuck in the world created for them. Weatherbee died after only 3 days due to his lack of skill in the magical ways, leaving his fiancé, Heather Makney behind. Makney was forced to watch the happy life they would have had together drag on for years until the spell was released by an unknown Ministry official. After her release Mackney was transferred to the then new, St. Mungo's, where she died in 1910."

Lack of skill. Died. Three days. Draining. The book fell from his hands. It was true. He felt his heart clench. Three days. He looked at the book on the floor without seeing it. It had already been two, and Hermione was still just a student. A powerful witch sure, but if a school teacher couldn't handle it...he closed his burning eyes. If a teacher couldn't handle it, then how could a student?


	7. Revelations of a Different Sort

Top of Form

A Christmas Gift  
Chapter Seven: Revelations of a Different Sort  
Author: Dizzy  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

For the second time in her young life, Hermione Granger lacked the energy or the will to rise from bed. She lay there, halfway between sleep and wakefulness in that foggy void where dreams still influence thoughts but outside conversation still manages to seep through.

This morning's particular outside conversation was the same as the previous days. Draco was trying unsuccessfully to rouse her with a persistence that was quite annoying. He didn't rip the blankets from her person this morning, he didn't bop up and down on the bed, he merely kneeled beside her, breath hot on her face and his hand pushed against her shoulder, shaking her too and fro.

"Go away," she murmured, snuggling deeper into her pillow.

The rocking continued, it was almost soothing in its rhythm, gentle and consistent. Rock, fall forward, rock, fall forward. He had been doing this off and on for the better part of three hours.

"Granger please wake up," the voice was soft, almost pleading and she ignored it.

"Go away Malfoy," she murmured again. "I just need a few more minutes."

"It's noon." The boy pointed out. Normally this news would have sent her shooting up out of her bed, frantic at the thought of missing so much time, so much research. But today she was just too tired to even flinch. She moaned, rolling over onto her other side, pulling the covers up to her chin.

"Leave me be." She grunted. "I'm tired."

Draco looked down at the girl, concern twisting his stomach. It was an odd emotion, concern, unfamiliar but ever present. She was paler this morning, and the fact that she had slept for so long was scaring him a bit. It was one thing to take advantage of no classes but quite another to sleep half the day away.

"Granger you're going to get up. If I have to MAKE you," with that he leaned down, scooping her into his arms.

Her protests were tired and weak, she pushed against his chest as he carried her out of the hospital wing, clad only in the partially unbuttoned white shirt and skirt of her uniform, her robes draped forgotten on the chair beside her bed. For a moment she didn't realize what happened, merely lay there, eyes closed stunned.

"Stop it, Malfoy," she murmured, but still too tired to actually do anything about it. So, she did the only thing she could think of. "Okay fine." She murmured.

She felt herself snuggling into his chest, her palm splayed across it from where she had tried to push against him. If he wasn't going to let her sleep in bed, she was going to sleep here she decided stubbornly. It wasn't so bad, he was deliciously warm and she felt like a child cradled in his arms.

Draco sighed, carrying her down the hall. She was quite light, which was to be expected from her short stature and small frame, but still a nuisance, her hair whipping about his face, ticking his cheeks and getting into his mouth. His destination wasn't far, and Hermione was just getting used to the feel of being in his arms, just beginning to drift off to sleep again when she felt herself dropped suddenly, cold air whirling about her legs, lifting her skirt. She landed with a hard thump on tile. She cried out in protest, her eyes snapping open and then she felt the water, freezing cold down her back, wetting her hair. She could only sit there for a moment stunned as the water drenched her person, and then she did the only thing she could.

She squealed, launching herself up off the tile, pitching forward right back into his arms. She was wide awake now, though still exhausted.

"Knew that would work," she looked up, her fingers clutching his robes, his eyes twinkled with mirth. His arms were around her slightly, steadying the girl.

"YOU YOU-" her fingers unclenched and she began hitting him with weak little baps of her fist on his chest. "COMPLETE AND UTTER ARSE!" She squealed. Surprised Draco stepped back, letting her go.

She was quite beautiful actually.

Her hair hung in wet curls down her face, her white shirt soaked through showing a tantalizing bit of skin, and her eyes burned into his with such anger it made him laugh. He began dodging her fists, backing up as she continued her assault, yelling various obscenities.

"Well, you're up now, aren't you?" He said laughing, ducking a blow to the head.

She kept on for a moment, hitting and kicking at him. It was very satisfying to have him on the run about the whole bathroom. But then exhaustion over took her. It was like having all the energy sucked out of her, she felt her legs collapse underneath her. Her head was swimming, but not in a good way.

"I feel so...strange." She murmured as she fell.

Draco looked on in horror, all amusement fading from his face, as the previously energetic girl fell to her knees. He was at her side in an instant.

"Granger," he murmured, lifting her slightly. "Are you all right?" Hermione smiled weakly.

"Bit tired is all," she said, and then she fainted.

Draco looked bewildered, she had fallen right into his arms, her head lolling in his chest.

"Gods." He murmured, lifting the soaking wet girl into his arms again, feeling the coolness of her hair on his chest as it soaked through his shirt.. "Come on wake up." He jostled her. "HERMIONE," he yelled into her ear. "WAKE UP." He jostled her some more. "PLEASE GRANGER WAKE UP," he kept yelling, starting out of the bathroom he'd brought her too down the hallway.

"It's only been 3 days," he murmured. "Wake up Granger, I'm begging you. I don't beg, you know that." He continued down the hall way, making his way to the hospital wing. He was practically sprinting, keeping her tucked close to his chest as he went to prevent hurting her.

"Come on Granger," he was saying. "You have to be all right."

He reached the Wing in record time, carefully putting the girl down on the bed, his fingers fumbling over the buttons of her shirt. It felt wrong doing this without her consent but freezing to death would do her no good. So he kept on.

"I'm a stupid prat," he murmured to himself, ignoring her soft smooth skin as he removed her shirt. He lifted her slightly, using his other hand to unsnap the clasp of his cloak. He kept her upright, wrapping her in it. He brushed a few strands of hair out of her face as he lowered her to the bed, pulling the duvet up around her shoulders.

"I shouldn't have taken you to the showers," he was whispering. "Now you're going to be all cold. Can't have that can we Granger?" He didn't know what to do. He'd never been in this situation before. So he just moved his hands up and down the bump that was her arms, trying to warm her with the friction. "I should have told you." It was a few seconds before he felt her stir.

"Should've told me what?" the girl murmured and he let out a sound of relief.

"Don't you EVER do that to me again." He pulled her to him, his hands at her bare back under the cloak he had draped around her. "You scared the magic outta me Granger."

"I-I fainted?" She asked. She felt him nod on her shoulder, still clutched, rather comfortably to his chest. "I told you I was tired." She joked softly, but he didn't laugh. He just kept clutching her. "Malfoy I'm FINE." She tried to pull away. "Shirtless but fine." He slowly released her, flushing.

"I had to get you warm-" he was sputtering. "Your shirt was all wet."

"It's all right Malfoy," she laughed lightly, pulling his cloak tighter around herself. "I'm mortified but it's all right."

"Truthfully it wasn't so bad-" he was cut off by the pillow smacking him firmly across his face. "See you've got your energy back."

"I feel better," the girl nodded, tucking the pillow beneath her, still clutching the cloak.

"It was so odd though..." Draco wasn't looking at her now. He merely stood up.

"I'm-I'm going to find you some new clothes," he said after a moment, a pained expression on his face. Puzzled she started to say something but he interrupted her. "And some soup. Stay here." And with that he turned, his boots clicking on the floor and he left the wing, leaving a bewildered, and somewhat frightened Hermione behind.

She had never to her knowledge fainted before, and she had felt so odd in the moments just before. Like all the feeling in her body was rushing out of her at once, like someone had switched off a lightbulb for a second. She lay there, clutching his cloak to her, inhaling the scent of pepper and cloves that she associated with him now, smiling a bit at his concern. He was such a strange boy, so full of malice and so full of compassion at the same time. She was actually enjoying the company of this Draco. Still, she couldn't help but be a bit scared of the cause of her fainting. She had a feeling that the same malicious and compassionate boy that consumed her thoughts had an idea as to its cause...

He returned not twenty minutes later, one arm draped with new clothes, the other balancing a tray of hot soup and unbuttered toast, as well as a glass of orange juice. She didn't question where he had gotten all this in such a short time. Draco had his ways. He set the clothes on the chair beside her bed, atop her own robes, and then kneeled there in front of it.

"I brought you soup," he said gruffly. He didn't look pleased about having to get it either.

She smiled at him, and saw him falter in his grumpiness. He said nothing, merely arranged the blankets beside her, lifting her up and arranging her pillows so she was in a sitting position, before picking up the tray he had set on the floor. He set it about her, leaving her a nice table.

"Are you going to feed me too?" She teased, and saw him guiltily drop the spoon he had picked up.

"No." He said indignant, moving the clothes in the chair to a bed so he could sit down in it. Hermione picked up the abandoned spoon.

"You're good at this you know," she said after a few sips of the liquid. It warmed her to her toes, and she had a few more.

"At what?" His arms were crossed over his chest, his expression sullen, as if trying to make up for his compassionate gestures earlier.

"Taking care of people." She took a bite of her bread. Draco shrugged.

"My mother is often taken ill." She looked up in surprise. Draco never mentioned his mother. She had seen the angry woman once, and she knew her name was Narcissa but she had never heard Draco speak of her, especially with such an expression on his face. It was gentle and tender at the same time. For a moment, that expression on his face, he was so beautiful it made her heart clench. She looked away.

"I'm sorry," she said after a moment. Draco shrugged.

"My birth weakened her," he offered. "That's why I have no siblings."

"You must love her then," Hermione said swallowing. "Your face gets softer when you speak of her." Draco shrugged, looking away.

"She's my mother." Hermione said nothing else for a moment.

"What about your father?" Draco looked up sharply at her question, his eyes cold. 

"What?" He bit out.

"What do you think of your father?" Draco stood up, angry at her words. How dare she ask him such a question?

"He's an arse," he bit out. Hermione nodded.

"I got that impression," she shrugged. "It's just...you used to constantly sing his praises, but you haven't said one thing about him."

"I started thinking for myself," was all Draco said. Hermione pushed her bowl away.

"I'm finished," she said, after a moment's pause.

"You will sleep now." He grabbed the tray.  
"Yes, master," she tucked herself further into his cloak, further under the blankets. She heard him snort.

"You're hardly a slave I would want," he whispered, setting the tray on the beds end table. "You're more trouble then your worth." He bent down and Hermione felt him tuck the blankets in closer around her.

"Goodnight." She murmured. "Draco."

"Goodnight." 

When she arose later Draco was nowhere in sight. She was feeling loads better now, feeling her limbs tingling from her rest. She stretched for a bit before standing. She looked around a moment for the boy, but satisfied that he wasn't there she began to dress in the clothes he had brought for her. They were her own she realized, he must have stolen into the room of the Hermione in this world and gotten them for her. She pulled his cloak around her, clasping it. She rather liked the dark velvet, it made her feel pretty, and she was growing to like his scent more and more.

The tray was gone, as were the clothes she had been wearing this morning. She frowned, and concentrated for a moment on that now familiar tug that meant Draco. She slowly let her feet start forward, letting them follow the instincts. It was weird this sensation of knowing where he was, even odder was the warmth that crawled into her stomach whenever she allowed herself to think of him. He was so different here, so nice, so charming, almost a person. He had his moments of course, where what she had assumed was the true Malfoy showing through. Yet, the longer they stayed here the more she thought perhaps THIS was the real Draco Malfoy and the snobbish arrogant prat that she had known for years was the fake. Merely a show for his friends.

Her steps had taken her outside, where it had grown quite late, the dark it seemed had been around for quite sometime, and the air had grown cold. She pulled her cloak around herself, continuing her steps. 

She found him by the lake, sitting on a log just by the shore, his leg dangling just above the crystalline water. He was lost in thought it seemed, one arm propped again the knee of the dangling leg, his chin held in his hand as he gazed across the lake. So lost in thought that he didn't hear her approach, and when her hand reached out to rest against his shoulder he jumped startled.

"Sorry," she murmured, going to sit beside him. "Did you want this?" She picked up the end of his cloak and he shook his head, turning back to the lake. "Are you sure? It's quite cold out.

"I said no, Granger," his voice was a bit harsh, and there was anger there, not at her, but something she couldn't quite place. She stared at him for a moment, puzzled. He wasn't looking at her, just staring off into space, lost in thought, a scowl on his face.

"What's wrong?" She asked after a moment. He sent her a look of surprise.

"Nothing." He was lying. She could see it in the tensing of his muscles, of the clenching of his fists.

"Alright." She said finally. "Don't tell me." At her hurt expression he at least had the decency to look exasperated.

"Fine," he snapped, and she kept herself from smiling triumphantly. She merely sat there, regarding him.

"I'm sick of this world," he said, looking down into the water. Knowing that was her cue Hermione spoke.

"Why?" She asked softly.

"Because it's better," he murmured. Startled she caught his eyes. "Because I'm not in it."

"It's not better," she said forcefully. He smiled sadly at her words, rage still hidden behind it.

"You don't have to deny it," his voice was so soft, so anguished she wanted to reach out to him. "I know it is."

"How do you figure?" She whispered.

"In this world," he stood up, gesturing one way with his arm. "My house wins championships, in our world-" he gestured the other way "-we've lost every year."

"But that's not-" he cut her off, waving the same hand in her face.

"Let me finish," so she closed her mouth, allowing him his petty indulgence.

"In this world-" his other hand snapped to the other side. "-Neville Longbottom is 3rd, because I'm not here to ruin everything for him." His other hand snapped in the opposite direction.

"In our world he's a bumbling, stupid idiot who melts potion cauldrons and gets caught in trick stairways."  
"Neville-" he cut her off again.

"LET ME FINISH," he half-yelled. Again her mouth snapped shut, a bit scared now. His hand went to the other side again.

"In this world you're happy with that sniveling twerp Ronald Weasley," he spat Ron's name as if it disgusted him. His hand snapped the other way. "In our world you're alone, and Weasley's too scared to get you, because of me." Her mouth opened again of its own accord.

"I don't even-" he glared at her.

"Will you JUST SHUTUP," her mouth snapped closed once more, the anger in his eyes was beginning to frighten her, the rage coiled just under his skin made her want to run away from him. But she forced herself to sit there, watching him and his half crazed pacing, snapping his arm back and forth, comparing the two extremes.

"In this world-" his voice was harsher then he had ever heard it, low and dangerous, "-my father finally has a son he can be proud of." He reached into his shirt pocket, an odd half-smile forming on his face. "A son he can love."

There in his hands was an issue of the Daily Prophet, only a few days old, and on the front page was Lucius Malfoy, smiling genuinely. There was also a boy who looked remarkably like Draco beside him, grinning as well. The headline read "Youngest Malfoy Lives Up to Grand Expectations" and below in smaller type the article. "A son worthy of the Malfoy name."

Draco spat, tossing the already crumbled paper into the lake. She watched as it soaked up the water, floating away in the moonlight. He said nothing more, just looked out across the lake, shaking with rage, with hurt, with something she couldn't see. Hermione stood up, still a bit scared but she forced herself to walk over to him.

"Draco," she whispered. "It's not like that at all." Draco turned to look at her, and she reacted on impulse, putting her hand on her cheek.

"Then what's it like?" He whispered. She felt her thumb move of its own accord across his cheekbone, slightly caressing.

"This world is no better and no worse then the one we live in," she whispered. "In our world your house loses cups because Harry Potter makes them, all you did was help him make the team," he opened his mouth but she put a finger to his lips. "It's my turn now Malfoy." He said nothing.

Her thumb continued its caress of his face, completely against her own will, but it was oddly comforting to both of them.

"It was fate that did that, made Harry part of that team, Draco, not you." She continued on. "In our world Ronald and me are not together because we don't wish to be. It has nothing to do with you," she murmured. "In our world Neville is a bumbling idiot because that's who he is-" Draco cut her off there.

"Then why-" she shhed him again.

"I'm not saying your constant cruelty doesn't play a role in that Draco," she whispered. "But it's not entirely your fault."

Her thumb brushed across the bridge of his nose now, her other hand going to the other side of his face to join it, thumbs brushing under his eyes. She was comforting him she knew, giving him the touch of another human he had craved for so long, and it was comforting her too, keeping her from giving into the loneliness.

"And your father is a stupid git," she said softly, this whole conversation was making her weak again, she struggled to keep going. "In this world and every world, and you don't make him happy because you're not like him Draco. He doesn't love you because he doesn't love anyone but himself." She looked into his eyes then, her hands stopping their gentle ministrations, poised on his cheeks, trying to hold herself up. He was frozen by her, completely rigid. "Because he's a fool."

Draco thought he was going to kiss her then. He knew he wanted to, he could feel the clench of his heart in his chest, the burn of her hands on his face, feel the yearning. And as he bent down, their breath mingling, he knew he'd never wanted to do anything more in his life.

"Draco," she whispered.

"Yeah," his voice was husky, full of passion, full of something he'd rather not discuss. Just before his lips met hers she pulled back a bit.

"I'm going to faint again," she let out in a strangled breath just before she did just that.


	8. A Kiss of Light

Top of Form

A Christmas Gift  
Chapter Eight: Kiss of Light  
Written By: Dizzy  
Disclaimer: I own exactly bullocks.

Draco felt her slump into his arms, and he struggled to support her. Not again, please be all right. Thoughts whirled in his head as he scooped her up into his arms for what felt like the millionth time that day. He looked down at the girl. She was so pale, her skin milky-white, and it was more then just the moon and the night, her face was completely devoid of color, almost transparent, he could see faint blue veins under it. The skin under her eyes was dark like bruises. He clutched her too him, breathing in the scent of her hair.

"Thought I told you not to do that anymore Granger," he whispered. "You have to be all right okay? Don't leave me here alone." His eyes burned and for a moment he just stood there clutching the girl in his arms, trying to figure out what to do.

He began walking back in the direction of Hogwarts. There was no solution to this problem. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. So he would do whatever he could, keep her warm, feed her broth, do what they did in old books for people. It was just like that. Someone is dying and you're too ignorant of the ways of the world to do anything about it. People die simply because you don't know HOW to stop it. He did his best to wrap his cloak around her, but her weight against it made it impossible to unclasp without setting her down, and he refused to set her in the cold snow. So he just walked a little faster, his boots crunching on the ice, his breath coming out in quick, scared gasps.

And Draco had never really been scared of anything but his father in his whole life. He had never felt concern for anyone but his mother, and even then the concern was thin and obligatory. A son's love for his mother, something instilled from birth. It wasn't like this. He walked a little faster.

Using one hand he yanked the door to the large, looming building open, close to running now; as he made his way down long twisting corridors and up steep stairwells to the infirmary.

It was empty save for a distracted Madame Pomfrey, who was pouring over a book, still looking prim and proper even in her relaxed posed. He ignored her, going over to what had been established as Hermione's bed.

He gently removed her shoes and socks, marveling over the delicate nature of her feet, practically blue from the cold, her shoes were thin and impractical. He scowled at her form for a minute. How could she be so stupid? He pulled back the bed covering, laying her carefully on the mattress, pulling the blankets over her still form. She was still shivering.

He went to the next bed, wrenching off its bed clothes, then to the next. He laid both sets over the sleeping girl, tucking them all around her so she was nothing more then a shapeless bundle with a head.

She didn't move. She didn't wake. Not even the warmth was doing any good. He growled, his hand moving to her head. She was shivering, but her head was so hot, so bloody hot. He moved his hand down her cheek. She needed a compress. Turning he began to search the room, coming up with a small metal basin, but no cloth.

"Where's the bloody cloth?" He set the basin on the bed beside her, pulling things off shelves, digging through drawers. And there, mocking him was the one woman who could have helped him.

"WHERE'S THE BLOODY FUCKING CLOTH YOU USELESS OLD BAG." He screamed at the woman.

She turned a page.

Draco picked up a bottle of some reddish tint potion and chucked it full force at her. As he expected it passed right through the woman, shattering against the wall, rust colored liquid running down in streams. "HELP ME." He stormed over to the woman, using every bit of muscle he had to send the desk in front of her careening across the room. It hit the wall with a huge crack, one of the legs splintering, the desk leaning now at an odd angle. Madame Pomfrey simply turned a page.

"HELP ME YOU STUPID BINT." He wanted to shake her, to hit her, so he did, but he almost sent himself toppling over with the force of it as his hand passed right through her. "Help me." He said desperately. "Please, listen to me. HELP her."

Draco fell to his knees, his hands wanting to grab onto the woman's knees, they passed right through resting on the chair instead. "Please listen to me." He stared at the woman. Willing her to hear him, willing her to see him, to see the girl lying on the bed. "HELP ME." He pleaded. He felt the burning again and ignored it, his head falling forward. "Please help her."

If he had been looking for a miracle, or a response he got nothing. The woman simply turned down the corner of a page in her book, casting a glance to a clock on the wall, behind her. It was, as far as he could see, splattered in the blood red liquid from the bottle he had broken against the wall. But he knew it was clear to her, and quite late. She sighed, opening a drawer in midair and setting the book inside. She smoothed her habit, and left the room, casting not a glance to the pleading boy that had been at her feet, nor the dying girl lying pale and lifeless in one of her hospital beds. Draco had never placed faith in any God. And now he knew why.

It was many minutes before he managed to collect himself, his desperation and anger turning to determination. Malfoy's did not beg, they did not whine and lay on cold stone floors pleading. He stalked over to the bed, wrenching up the basin. He made his way to the sink, filling it with cold water, and then he removed his cloak. He quickly unbuttoned his white dress shirt, grabbing a pair of shears from a shelf against the wall. There was gauze, but no cloth. You'd think somewhere in this ruddy place there would be a wash cloth, he thought, disgusted. It only further convinced him that Hogwarts was an absolutely depraved place. He took the shears, cutting one of the sleeves off of his shirt, moving then to the buttons at the cuff, snapping them off as well. He set the shears back on the shelf, picking the basin up in one hand, bunching up the thick fabric of his shirt with the other. He made his way over the bed, setting the basin on a chair, dipping the cloth inside. He made his way back over to his cloak, drawing it around him, clasping it, his skin bare beneath, and then he set to wok.

He wrung out the cloth, damp from the water, and pressed it to her forehead. He had seen this done before. His mother was often feverish, but he didn't know if he was doing it right or not. It seemed a pretty simple thing. He continued to press it to her face, trying to cool her.

"Come on," he whispered to the girl. "Wake up." She gave him no response. Not even a groan. She just continued to shake from cold, her skin pale and beaded with sweat and moisture from the compress. He pressed it again to her face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "This is my fault." He was fairly sure he had never apologized sincerely for anything in his life. Not for anything that meant something anyway. "If I wasn't such an ass all the time then whoever did this wouldn't have cast that stupid spell." He went on, continuing to run the cloth over the girl's face, brushing damp strands of her hair away from it as he went. "I didn't mean for you to get involved." He said softly. "If you hadn't of been on that Quidditch Pitch you wouldn't be here." He dipped the cloth again, wringing it out in the cold water. "And if I hadn't of done something terrible to whoever did this we wouldn't be here." He looked at the girl, his eyes pleading; begging for the second time in his life. "You can't leave me here alone Hermione. Please don't leave me here alone."

"You called me Hermione," her eyes didn't open, but her lips moved, and the words, strained and soft came out.

"I've called your Hermione before."

He could barely contain his excitement. He set the cloth in the water, brushing her face with a calloused hand. He leaned closer. She still didn't open her eyes. She was too weak to do that. But at least she had spoken.

"But you never meant it before."

Draco felt something in his chest snap. His heart breaking he supposed. She sounded so sad, so weak.

"I mean it now," he whispered, leaning a bit closer. The girl didn't speak. She had slipped back into unconsciousness, slow shuddering breaths coming from her chest. He leaned closer. "And I'll mean it from now on. I promise. Just please be all right." He closed his eyes. Pressing his lips to hers, his heart clenching once more. With something he couldn't place.

With love. He realized then, kissing her, just how much he could love this girl. Just how much he did love her.

The light was blinding brilliance, it was everywhere. His eyes snapped open as it filled the room, making the objects and furniture in it fade, until there was nothing but he and the girl beneath him.

He felt his stomach pull forward, felt the ground fall out beneath him and wondered if this was where he was going to spend the rest of his life: trapped in a giant world of light.

He was still falling, faster and faster, wind burning his cheeks. He grabbed onto the girl, clutching her too him as they spun and twirled through the light.

The ground hit him hard, knocking the wind out of him, cold ground stinging his ears. He blinked dumbly. He tried to focus. There was a weight on his chest, something soft tickling his neck, and he couldn't breath.

"Draco?" Hermione pushed herself up, her hair falling down in a curtain about his face and neck.

"Getarf," he wheezed, trying to draw air into his lungs. Startled the girl rolled to the side into the snow.

The snow. Hermione looked around. They were on the Quidditch pitch, the goal posts looming up into gray sky, snow still falling lightly around them.

By her feet lay her bag.

"Draco we're back," she whispered, feeling right again for the first time in days.

"I know that," he just continued to lay there, trying to regain a sense of balance, trying to breath.

"Are you okay?" Her face loomed in front of him, her hair tickling his cheeks and ears.

"I could ask you the same question," he croaked. His back was killing him.

"I'm fine," she wiggled her fingers before his face, feeling the cold sink into her knees as she

knelt in the snow beside him. "We're back." She whispered joyfully.

"You said that already." He sat up, groaning slightly as every limb in his body protested. Obviously whirling through time and space was hell on your lower lumbar.

"But...how?" She looked up at him, proud. "You learned the lesson."

"I guess," he shrugged. "I still don't know what it was." Hermione shrugged, looking away. Draco looked at her, a smile, a real smile overtaking his features. She blushed.

"What?"

"It's just good to see you...looking like you." He whispered. He reached up, tucking a strand of chestnut hair behind an ear.

"It wasn't so bad." Hermione blurted. The boy blinked.

"What wasn't?"

"Being trapped there with you." She smiled back at him.

"Despite the near-death experience?" He grunted, standing.

"Yes. Despite the near-death experience." She stood as well, and before she knew what was happening he had pulled her into a crushing embrace, his arms sneaking around her waist, clutching at her back, one hand snaking into her hair.

"You really scared me there."

"I'm sorry." She smiled against his chest, breathing in the scent of him. "You really scared me too." Draco pulled back, regarding her with a raised eyebrow.

"No faith-" he shook his head, "-absolutely no faith." He reached down, picking up her bag, placing it on her shoulder, and then grabbed his broom which lay a few feet away.

"Come on. I'm sure everyone's worried sick about you," he put a hand to the small of her back, gently leading her to the building. Hermione smiled up at him.

"I can't believe we're back." Draco looked down at her, but it was a different look, a sad kind of look.

"Yeah. We're back."

TBC...

Bottom of Form


	9. The Real World

A Christmas Gift

Chapter Nine: The Real World

Written by: Dizzy

Disclaimer: Own nothing, want everything.

They walked towards the Great Hall together, but there they parted. The trip back had been done in silence, only a few looks of unease and excitement passed between them. Draco had known, from that first moment of being back that he would have to give their time up. Forget it had ever happened. In this world they existed, and the rules applied to them as much as anyone else. So he steeled himself for their parting.

Hermione, however, had failed to realize what would change now that they were out of their little world. She hadn't thought it through. She was more excited about being back, about being seen and able to interact. It wasn't until they reached the large doors of the Great Hall that she realized exactly what was going to happen.

Draco turned to her for a second, his eyes catching her own. It was an intense look, full of a meaning she couldn't place. Then he was gone, he had swept into the Great Hall without so much as a goodbye, leaving her alone at the entrance. Hermione stood there for a moment, wanting to cry but knowing she had no right. It was her fault anything had happened in the first place. Her world had cast them together, and the real world would rip them apart. It already had.

Who had done it? Draco's eyes went from person to person, trying to look beyond their face and see their guilt. It seemed that not a moment had passed in the real world. Everyone was still eating lunch, and his table was still practically empty. He sat down at the end, away from the giggling first years and looked around the room.

The Gryffindors were an obvious gaggle of likely suspects. Most loathed him, and would have been more then happy to see him trapped in that world forever. But Hermione was one of their own, and he doubted they would have endangered her in such a way. Unless they hadn't counted on her being there at the time, which still didn't make any sense to him, they would have seen her.

He ruled out Hufflepuff for the simple fact that they weren't bright enough to be able to think up such a plan.

Which took him to Ravenclaw. Many of his female conquests were at that table. The females in Ravenclaw were intelligent and unusually pretty, and there was no love lost between them and Hermione. They felt it wrong that a Gryffindor could best them year after year in every subject when they were supposed to be the clever house. Surely at least one of them should be smarter then Hermione Granger. They seemed the most likely candidates. Many of the Ravenclaw boys loathed him, for stealing their girlfriends, or would-be girlfriends, and for just generally being Malfoy. And a lot of the girls had their hearts broken by him, perhaps they were a bit bitter. And they were certainly clever enough.

He stared at the table for a moment. No one gave him a look, of guilt or innocence. He couldn't alight on a particular face either. Most of the older students were away, and he had no idea who the younger ones were. That almost ruled them out entirely.

Potter and Weasley would generally be at the top of his suspect list, but he had ruled them out immediately. They would never put Hermione in that much danger. Confused, and hungry Draco turned his attention to his plate. He was a patient man, and he knew that eventually the guilty party would come forward, if the right pressure was applied.

So he ate, and tried not to think of the girl who had just entered the Great Hall.

Hermione ignored the surprised look on Harry's and Ron's faces, knowing that to them she had left just moments before. They smiled in greeting, and resumed their discussion of all things Quidditch. For once, Hermione was able to ignore them without a book in hand, using only her thoughts.

Draco was sitting alone across the hall, eating everything he could get his hands on. He did not look up at her, or even acknowledge that she was there, and it hurt. She had thought, perhaps they could have achieved some kind of closure. A cheesy romance novel ending of some sort, "I want to be with you but I can't" kind of conversation. But there had been nothing. No goodbye, no see you around, no nothing. It hurt. She tried her best to pull her thoughts away from him, but it was to no avail. Her guilt over deceiving him, and her sadness over being cast aside was too great to just ignore.

Harry and Ron were completely oblivious, Hermione was often prone to fits of depression, usually following exams. They chalked her silence up to worry over her results and nothing more.

Hermione had caught only the barest glimpse of Draco in the day following her return. He was walking down the staircase, glaring at each person who passed, accusatory. Her stomach churned. He was trying to find the culprit, she knew it. She just hoped he didn't look to close to her direction.

She missed him. Ron and Harry were poor substitutes. They looked at her like the girl she was, never inviting her to share in their snowball fights, or anything they considered beneath her. She had never joined them before.

That was how she found herself sitting alone, on a high bank of snow watching her boys pelt balls of hard ice at each other with brutal force. For the first time in her life she wanted to join in. She was just as good as them, girl or not. She had held her own in a candy war for Merlin's sake, she could aim bigger objects any day. But they hadn't asked her to join. She knew that Draco wouldn't have asked either however. He would have simply chucked a heap of ice at her, and expected her to realize it was an invitation.

Hermione sat there for a moment, swirling her finger in the snow, making little swirls and curlicues in the white blanket.

Ron let out a rather girly scream of rage, his hair plastered to his head, and white bits clinging to his face. Harry laughed and ducked just in time to avoid a rather massive ball heading his way.

Hermione stood up, her little hands reaching down to collect a rather good portion of snow. She packed it expertly, and then reared her arm back.

It struck Harry dead on in the back of the head. He reared around in surprise. Hermione looked up into the air, feigning innocence. If they weren't going to invite her, she was going to invite herself.

Ron gaped at her in surprise. She gave him a challenging look in return. It was Harry who accepted. While she was issuing her challenge to Ron, he was planning his attack. He snuck close, and dropped a large bit of snow onto her head.

Hermione shrieked, and the war was on.

From a window above Draco looked down. His face twisted from jealous rage to sadness, going back and forth between the two. Was it too much to ask that she at least act as though she missed him? Instead she was having a blast, while he was stuck in the castle, bored and aching.

He heard her let out a shriek, and almost laughed at her running form. They were ganging up on her, chasing her to the bank she had been sitting on so peacefully just moments before.

At least she wasn't dead. A few more moments and she would have been, never to play in the snow again.

It was small comfort.

Draco ached to join them, to show them that he was kind of a different person. He had been rude to only one person all day, and justifiably so. Colin Creevy needed to watch where he was going.

He wanted to join Hermione in her way, and perhaps teach Potter and Weasley a little lesson about fair play. He wanted to make another snow angel.

Instead he turned from the window, and walked back to the dungeons. A good book and a mug of hot cocoa awaited him there, and at least no one would see that he was alone. Per Hermione's suggestion he had visited the Muggle section of the library the day before, and was pleased to see A Christmas Carol was still there. He wanted to find out just who this Scrooge was.

The Christmas Hogsmeade visit was scheduled for later that day, and Hermione found herself not wanting to go. It would be fairly painful.

But Ron and Harry insisted, and there she was putting on her scarf, and boots waiting for them to come down from their dormitory. She would go, and try to forget. Since Draco seemed to be doing so well at it.

At lunch that day, soaking wet from their snow ball fight, she had tried to seek him out. She found him in his usual place, alone, at the Slytherin table. In his hands was a book, and he ate distractedly. He didn't look at her the whole time. Not so much as a glance, she had checked, many times. He had forgotten her it seemed.

In truth she had never been more on his mind. As he read the rather wordy, and somewhat boring book he realized that she had been entirely right. He was Scrooge. It was him to a capital S. Masses of money, although he wasn't quite so old, and not a charitable bone in his body. It was a revelation. Her Ghost of Christmas Past reference was fairly inaccurate however, as he had seen nothing of his past Christmas's. Thank Merlin. He didn't want to show her that embarrassing bit of his life for anything.

The book itself was rather good, although the pictures at the beginning of the chapter's didn't move, and Dicken's was probably the most boring bloke on the planet. But if one plowed through they got results. He liked the Marley brothers, and the ghostly imagery, and even Scrooge himself. With every sentence he read he tried to apply it to how Hermione saw him, and realized that she was right, at least in some respects. As a result of his wandering thoughts he was spending a great deal of time with a rather short book. It was enlightening though.

As he reached the end he really doubted he would have given Bob Cratchett's family a large turkey, or spent Christmas with the annoying nephew, but he might have at least been a bit nicer. Maybe given ole' Bobby a raise or something, and sent the nephew a card. He closed the book and stuck it into his satchel.

He had to get ready to go to Hogsmeade, as boring as the day would turn out to be. It would be just him wandering alone around the shops, stopping for a Butterbeer or two and counting the minutes until he could return to Hogwarts. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't even have gone. But he had an errand to run, and a girl to possibly run into.

Harry and Ron's enthusiasm was infectious, and the day was not as bad as she thought it would be. They disappeared one at a time in turns, presumably to get her Christmas present, and returned with plain brown packages they wouldn't let her see.

She too had disappeared for a little bit, leaving them to themselves. For Ron she got him a massive supply of candy. And a new pair of wool gloves, as his were torn and dirty. For Harry she got him a little toy snitch and a massive poster of the Chudley Cannon's. Laden with packages she returned to her boys, who had already ordered her a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks.

Hermione sat down, and was just about to take a sip of her butterbeer when she noticed that Ron and Harry had stopped asking her what she had purchased. Instead their eyes were glaring just above her head, their expressions menacing.

She turned, already knowing who it was, and caught her breath. Draco stood just behind her, silver grey eyes piercing into her own. His hair was windswept, his cheeks tinted slightly pink. His expression was not warm, but it wasn't threatening either.

"Granger," he gave her a nod.

"What do you want Malfoy," Ron spat. And Draco ignored him. His eyes instead were focused only on Hermione. She couldn't breath, she couldn't think, she could only stare. He didn't say anything for a moment, and then he held out his hand.

In it was a small brown parcel. He had gotten her a present? Hermione's heart soared for a second.

"You dropped this." Draco said simply, and placed it on the table. It was Harry's toy snitch.

Disappointment flooded her senses, and she opened her mouth to thank him, but he had already turned and was walking out of the pub. She closed her mouth, and watched him retreat, her hand resting on the package he had returned to her.

TBC…..(3 more parts left, hoorah)


	10. A Confession

A Christmas Story

Part 10: A Confession

Author: Dizzy

Authors Notes: After almost a year of nothing I give you…something. A small something, but it's a start. I've been so caught up in the real world that I had to leave fandom entirely, but I'm hoping return. I've been working full time, going to school full-time, and I've gotten married. Those three alone should be enough, but I've got a little dog that requires constant supervision (she's my child) to boot, and I'm dutifully hunting for a house.

Fortunately though I've been given a reprieve. I'm on vacation currently, not the kind where you go to the beach. Just the kind where you stay home and get paid. So I've taken advantage of that. I'm also starting a new job next week. It's part-time for now, more hourly money and a better position, but a slight pay-cut due to the limited number of hours. But that means more time. So good news on that front.

Here it is, the long awaited Part 10.

It was Draco's abrupt departure, and his disappointing "gift" that prompted Hermione to get up from her seat. Ron and Harry gave her a look of confusion.

"I forgot a gift," she smiled and picked up her parcels. "The prat just reminded me." They nodded and returned to their butterbeers, completely trusting.

She felt a bit guilty for lying to them, but she had a feeling she was going to have to get used to it. In the end she was sparing them a lot of anger and confusion.

Hermione made her way back out into the cold, heading on the direction of Honeydukes. She had one more gift to get. It might be silly and pointless but it was something Hermione felt she had to do.

She had to show him that even if he didn't care anymore, that even if he had forgotten: she hadn't. She still remembered. She hadn't forgotten. She still felt the same as she had before they had left the alternate Hogwarts, and she would still feel the same tomorrow.

There was no changing that. As she walked she wished that, in a way, she could change it. Reversing her feelings for Draco Malfoy would be a lot easier then dealing with them, continuing them. She had a feeling it would hurt less in the long run as well.

She made her way through the crowds of people, happy that she could bump into them. Touch them, feel them, and at the same time she missed that world that she had left. Towards the end of her stay there it was less lonely, less scary. It had been nice.

If only she had been given a bit more time there she could have handled this situation better. They could have prepared themselves.

She shook her head to clear it. There was no sense in dwelling on the might-have-been's. She had to deal with the now.

She made her way to the register and prepared to do just that. Deal with now, and make amends for the past. She was going to do this right this time, and tell him everything.

The Slytherin common room was completely empty. It was feast night, so the few students that had remained were in the Great Hall. Draco was alone, and that was how he liked it.

He turned the brown package over and over in his hands, calloused fingers rubbing the outside of it, across brown paper. He pulled at the twine that circled its length, and tried to feel its contents through the wrapper.

He was a coward.

This was, however, a fact of his being that he was not ashamed of. Malfoys had been cowards for centuries. Running in the face of danger, and hiding until it was over. They had run, and hid in every great battle, in every dangerous situation since there were Malfoys. They were proud of it. Being a coward was synonymous in a Malfoy's eyes with being intelligent. Only a foolish Gryffindor would run head long into battle. Only an idiot would endanger themselves so recklessly. Being a coward was bred into him.

It was inescapable. There was nothing he could do about it. He was genetically predisposed to cowardice.

Draco shrugged. You could not mess with bloodlines.

"You could-" he reasoned out loud, "-stop making excuses."

At least he was self-aware.

He let the parcel fall from his hand back into his satchel. Another day perhaps, after a longer string of excuses were made, he would be able to do it. Another day just like this one would be better.

The feast was just like any other of the great feasts that dotted each holiday of the calendar, and ended the year. Platters and platters of festive holiday food lined the tables, and grubby hands reached out to grab more.

There were sugar cookies and rum cakes, fruit cakes and bread pudding, large legs of turkey, roast duck, every kind of potato imaginable from chips to mashed, all heaping and steaming.

It was a lovely feast, but in the end, just the same. The only thing that changed was the menu, and perhaps the conversation. For the first time out of all the feasts Hermione had attended she wasn't forced to listen to talk of Quidditch and lessons. Instead she talked of Christmas presents, and her dwindling finances. Christmas had put a large dent in her pocket change.

Ron and Harry both wore identical sweaters, Ron's with a large bold R and Harry's with an H. They both had mismatched socks on under their britches, a gift from Dobby. Hermione herself was donned in a scarf of Mrs. Weasley's creation in bright Gryffindor colors with shiny tassels at the ends. Dobby had given her a massive hat.

"Good haul this year," Ron was saying to Seamus, listing off the gifts he had received one by one. He smiled at her as he got to her gift, and then turned to Harry as he listed his.

It was pleasant, and cheery, but at the same time she couldn't help but let her mind, and her eyes wander across the hall. Draco had yet to show up for dinner.

If she had been disappointed upon looking at her stack of Christmas parcels this morning she hadn't shown it. There was no elegantly wrapped gift from an unknown giver in the stack. No surprise parcel delivered at breakfast.

She had yet to stumble upon one in the halls or in her usual seat at the library. She had checked, taking a special trip there just to be sure. There was nothing.

In truth she hadn't sent a surprise gift either yet. So really she couldn't be disappointed or angry, not until the day was over.

She felt him enter the hall, the rush of wind from the door marked his arrival and he strode in, fashionably late.

He didn't cast a look in her direction, didn't make way for her table with anything in his hands. He just went and sat, and started to eat.

Hermione focused her attention back on her boys. They had moved on now from presents to food. Suggestions flew about which mashed potato substance was the best, to which meat the others should try.

She smiled and laughed, and acted for all the world like nothing at all was the matter.

She saw him get up to leave, and watched his departure out of the corner of her eye. He was going out to the Quidditch pitch. She knew that much. He had his cloak on and that determined look on his face. The question was did she follow him?

If she did she would sacrifice nothing more then a blistered nose from the cold and the feeling of abject humiliation. If she didn't, she would sacrifice so much more.

"It's getting late," she murmured and picked up her stuff. The boys smiled at her, giving her good natured hugs and thanks for the gifts. She nodded at the others, yawning pointedly and then hastily made her way out of the hall.

It was lucky she had her cloak and her gloves for she wanted to waste no time. It was best to catch him before he took to the air. She shoved her hands into the gloves as she walked, briskly and purposefully towards the doors.

She was going to do this. She had to do this. Hermione had to know.

Draco hadn't taken flight yet, she could see his thin, pale form against the white of the snow, looking to the sky. His broom was in his hand, his bag on the ground. She walked a little faster.

"Draco!"

Draco turned and looked at the girl in surprise. He had imagined a meeting like this, hoped for something, which was why he had waited a minute, hoping but never believing. And here she was.

Her face was tinted red from the cold, her hair caught against her face. She was slightly out of breath, but cheerful looking.

"What are you doing out here Granger?" Truthfully he hadn't wanted it to come out as gruff and cold as all that. She didn't seem to notice.

"I didn't get to give you your gift," she smiled at him. Ignoring the stone like quality of his face, and the rigidity of his posture, she still smiled. He was just being Draco, just acting like he thought he was supposed to act.

"Gift?" He shifted uncomfortably.

Hermione nodded and reached into her satchel. "It's not much, but it was bloody expensive."

She handed him a small silver box, tied with a black ribbon. A Dragon Tongue.

Draco smirked.

"I hope you didn't do anything unscrupulous to get this Granger," he said as he opened the box. The little dragon inside darted frantically.

"Just your standard robbery," Hermione said cheerfully. "Wand blazing, take all your money out of the cash box and nobody gets hurt. That kind of thing."

Draco did smile now, reaching two fingers in to grab the little dragon.

"I'm almost ashamed to eat it now." But he did anyway, closing his eyes in that expression of ecstasy that made Hermione shift from foot to foot and look away.

"I'm glad you um-," she coughed, "-like it."

Draco groaned and nodded. "I got you something too," he murmured, his mouth still thick from the chocolate.

Hermione blinked in surprise as he reached down into his own back and withdrew a plain brown package wrapped in twine.

"Sorry it's not properly gift wrapped," Draco said shrugging, handing it too her. "Didn't have the time."

Hermione didn't care about the wrapping. She didn't even really care what was inside. The fact that he had actually gotten something for her was enough. She had been hoping for this all day, a sign of something at least.

She slowly removed the twine, ripping at the seams of the paper with her nails.

Inside was a small porcelain angel, snow white with wings pointing towards the sky. It caught the moonlight and twinkled for a moment, the surface giving off an opaline luster.

"It's beautiful," she breathed. Her fingers rubbed along the smooth surface.

"Had to resort to something a bit unscrupulous myself for that," Draco said shifting. "About an hours worth of work at the corner, selling myself."

Hermione smiled, still entranced.

"Thank you Draco," she whispered. He shifted again.

"No, thank you," he smirked. "I wasn't going to get any action otherwise."

Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes, putting the angel carefully into her bag.

"Come on," Draco said suddenly, taking the bag from her grasp and depositing it gently on the ground beside his own.

"Where are we-" but Hermione wasn't given a chance to finish. If she had been it would have been a yell of protest. Draco knew this, and just simply acted.

"We're going for a quick fly," he said and before she could say no he had her situated at the back of his black Nimbus. He took the spot in front of her, holding her arm securely so she couldn't get away.

"Hold on," he tossed over his shoulder, and then kicked off the ground.

Hermione screamed, flashing back to Buckbeak and the crazy flight up to the tower where Sirius was held. She hated heights, and she hated flying thing, especially flying things being controlled by impulsive teenage boys.

She grabbed his waist, squeezing his middle her eyes squeezed tight.

"I wanna get down. I wanna get down. I wanna get-" her mantra was cut short by her shriek as Draco took a sharp right in the air.

It was freezing, the wind biting at her ears, her face protected only by Draco's broad back. But in a way it was refreshing, in a scary, impending death kind of way. She gripped his stomach tighter.

"Open your eyes Hermione," Draco called over his shoulder. And she did. Because she trusted him.

They were over the lake now, glittering pale white in the moonlight, surrounded by a soft blanket of snow. The castle rose up into the sky, little pinpricks of yellow here and there on its surface.

It was beautiful. Draco had leveled them out now, the wind still whipping past their faces.

Hermione knew that it was time.

"I have to tell you something," she yelled in the general direction of his ear. Draco leaned back into her.

"What?" He yelled back.

Hermione gathered her courage. It was now or never, and it seemed as though it was now. She had decided this morning that she was going to tell him tonight, regardless of the consequences. He had to know, and she needed to tell him.

Hermione took another breath to steady herself. Closing her eyes in preparation and in fear.

Hermione opened her mouth to yell her confession.

"The spell…the spell was me. I did it," she saw his confusion for a fleeting second. She felt the broom shake a bit as he over corrected, she felt Draco freeze.

And then they were plummeting back towards the earth.


End file.
